


The Ross Identity

by stetsonblack



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Drama, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 39,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stetsonblack/pseuds/stetsonblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike has amnesia, Kyle is delusional, Rachel and Donna are gossiping, and Louis has impeccably bad timing. All in all, Harvey is not having a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For once, the day had actually started out nicely. That should have been Mike's first clue that everything would come crashing down, but for now he was happily preparing to head into work.

He had gone to sleep at 10:30, which he hadn't done since college, practically, and he'd woken up without the need of his alarm at 6:00.

He cooked himself a breakfast sandwich, filling the thing with cheese, and still had time to spare. So he made sure he looked respectable, tie straight, hair decent, and for once, no bags under his eyes. No one would be able to say he didn't look like a proper Pearson Hardman lawyer today.

He rode his bike over, taking the time to steer safely through the concrete jungle of New York's early rush, and made it to the office in record time.

The security guard who checked his badge even gave him a friendly smile.

As Mike walked through the office towards his cubicle, he spotted Louis, and as another wonder on this day of miracles, Louis didn't stop him or even glare at him. Instead he just looked through Mike as though he didn't exist, which was how Mike preferred to be seen when it came to Louis.

Mike sat down at his desk and leafed through the various files and briefs. They were all things he'd already finished with, either for Louis or Harvey. Somehow, he'd managed to get a head start on all his work, and he sat dazed at his desk for a few minutes as he realized that he actually had nothing to do.

So he organized his desk, which he hadn't done since he'd been assigned one, and threw out any used highlighters or pens. He even dusted off his computer screen and organized the filing cabinet he had. After the ten to fifteen minutes it had taken for him to do this, he decided that having nothing to do was even worse than having too much to do, so he decided to go beg Harvey for work.

And Mike was absolutely certain that Harvey would be in a good mood today. After the Clifford Danner case, Harvey had become unstoppable, which is to say, back to his usual self. He had taken on several tough cases that Jessica had personally given to him, and he'd even wrestled some pretty big clients from Louis' grasp. He'd been exceptionally forgiving the past few days, and had even taken time to show Mike how to fill out a form.

Mike was also proud to say that he'd been doing well these past few days too. He had settled two pro bono cases, won one in court, and been assigned to help Rachel research something for one of Jessica's big cases. Jessica had even complimented him.

So it was with eagerness that Mike set off for Harvey's office.

He approached Donna's desk, where the so-much-more-than secretary was busy typing up a storm.

Mike crossed his arms on her desk and rested his chin on his wrists. She didn't even look up as she asked, "What is it Mike? Get another paper cut?"

"Just didn't want to interrupt. Why? Are you trying to get rid of those Hello Kitty band-aids?"

"Twilight ones, actually," she said.

Mike raised his eyebrow at her in mock surprise.

"What?" she said dramatically. "Louis gave them to me."

"Mmhm," Mike said, retreating hastily. Now that he'd bantered with Donna, he could proceed safely to Harvey's office. They had a system.

Mike poked his head through Harvey's glass door. The man himself was sitting on his couch, legs crossed, sans jacket, and arguing suavely with a client.

"Take the offer," Harvey said, gesturing for Mike to sit down.

There was a loud retort from the other end of the phone. Harvey rolled his eyes as he and Mike shared a grin.

"No, Charlie. Listen to me. Take the deal. You're not going to get a better offer." There was another pause and Mike could hear the client's whining from where he was sitting three feet away. "Charlie, you never were going to get that much. That's the point of starting high. If you hadn't cheated on your wife, then none of this would have happened."

When Harvey had finally finished his call, he turned his attention to Mike.

Mike shrugged nervously under Harvey's gaze. "What?" he said intelligently.

"You tell me," Harvey replied.

Mike hesitated. He wanted to be useful, but did he really want to ask Harvey for work? He was still feeling lucky though, so he decided to go with his instinct.

"Um. Have anything you need me to do?" he asked, feigning boredom.

Harvey quirked an eyebrow. "Are you actually asking for something to do? Hasn't Louis started a new filing room in your cubicle?"

Mike chuckled. "He tried!"

Harvey's eyebrow rose even higher. Mike hadn't thought such a feat was possible, but then this _was_ Harvey Specter.

Mike wanted to act hurt, but since he had already committed to acting cool, he instead crossed his arms and smirked dramatically.

Harvey opened his mouth to retort when the intercom on his desk _tsk_ ed. Mike looked out at Donna's desk, but the secretary looked completely normal and inconspicuous. Which meant that Mike hadn't imagined that noise that stopped whatever it was Harvey had been about to say.

"Anyway, need any help?" Mike tried again.

"I'm Harvey Specter. Of course I don't _need_ help."

"Any grunt work then?" Mike rolled his eyes.

Harvey looked pensive for a minute and then said, "Well, I do need something from the file room. You know, the one where Louis' mother keeps her lair? I suppose you might be able to survive long enough to handle file retrieval."

"How generous of you, Harvey."

"Mmhmm," Harvey grinned, handing Mike a paper with instructions.

"You so care," Mike managed as he slipped out of Harvey's office.

Mike practically flew down the hall to his cubicle, he was just so happy to finally have something to do. He was so caught up in his reverie that he ran right smack into Kyle—whose arms were piled high with a fresh stack of briefs—scattering papers everywhere.

"Nice going, Ross," Kyle said, bending down to gather the loose papers.

Mike hurriedly started grabbing any papers within his reach and shoved them back as he muttered an insincere "sorry" at the evil that was Kyle.

Kyle was glaring at Mike, preparing a particularly clever response, when Mike suddenly bolted. He was so stunned that he barely managed to spit out a retort about Mike running from Kyle's greatness. Mike didn't know how fortunate he was to have not heard a single bit of it.

...

Kyle was having a strange day. He'd been given an enormous stack of briefs by Louis, except that when he sat down to do them, he discovered they'd already been proofed. Begrudgingly, Kyle silently thanked Mike.

He'd managed to avoid getting any more work to do by appearing extremely bogged down whenever Louis strolled past his desk. Kyle had a hunch that this had more to do with the fact that Louis was more focused on searching the crowd of cubicles for the ever late Michael Ross.

With an unusual amount of free time on his hands, Kyle decided to make the most of things. Pestering the pretty paralegal that Mike was so enamored of was the first thing he decided to do. He figured she'd come to her senses soon and choose him over Ross. It wasn't that Kyle particularly liked Rachel, it was more that he wanted her because that way Mike couldn't have her. And that was in no way petty. Definitely not.

He'd actually gotten a smile out of her by the time Louis found him. The junior partner had yelled at him about chasing the lesser beings, and thrown a heavy stack of files into Kyle's arms.

Still, everything was going great until he was run over by Mike Ross. In front of everyone in the entire associate's area, no less. Papers went flying everywhere and Kyle let out a reflexive, "Nice going, Ross," as he'd bent down to gather them back. Surprisingly, he was met with a quiet mumble of an apology from his enemy, who started gathering up all the loose papers.

Kyle glared back at the man, forming a rather clever retort about how Mike was totally inferior to Kyle for some reason or other. He didn't get the chance to perfect this insult however, as Ross flew past him towards the elevators.

 _Whatever_ , Kyle thought as he checked for any more loose papers. There was something over by the cubicle to his left and when he picked it up he saw that it was Ross' wallet.

He couldn't help the evil chuckle that escaped his lips when he found it. He made a mental note to check the inside later for any cash, not that he was going to steal it, but he wasn't beyond hiding the money and seeing Ross freak out about it. Now that would be entertaining.

As Kyle settled down at his desk he began leafing through the new stack of briefs that Louis had shoved at him, trying to put all the almost-escaped papers back in their correct places. That's when he noticed that the briefs had already been highlighted and notated. The handwriting matched that of the first stack of briefs'. Mike Ross. Kyle allowed another silent 'thank you' to the associate. Stupid Ross was even screwing up Kyle's ability to hate him.

"Hey, Kyle. Want a muffin?"

"What?" Kyle snapped as he looked up, startled, from the briefs. Harold was looking back at him, hurt written openly on his face. "Oh. No. Where did you get muffins from, anyway?"

"Oh, Norma was handing them out. She's so nice, you know?"

Kyle blanched. Norma was most definitely _not_ nice. The woman was almost scarier than Harvey's secretary, though in a completely different fashion. _She'd probably be super nice to Ross_ , he thought angrily.

"Are you feeling okay, Kyle?" Harold looked concerned now.

Kyle glared at the other associate.

"Anyway, I should really get back to work. See you!"

Kyle looked around at the rest of the associates curiously. Work? Was he the only one who had nothing to do? Free time just wasn't the same when it was caused by his enemy.

He tried to work for the next hour on whatever it was that Ross hadn't already done. This took him about five whole minutes, which were mostly spent leafing through each page to double check they'd already been dealt with. Kyle was now very bored and he was starting to wish he had accepted that muffin from Harold, when he remembered that he had Ross' wallet.

Snickering to himself, he pulled it from his coat pocket and opened the simple black leather billfold.

It was mostly empty. Kyle was now very disappointed. There was only one five dollar bill in the thing, and the only other items it held were Ross' ID and his Pearson Hardman badge. At least he could restrict Ross' entry to and from the building with the badge. He tossed the thing down angrily.

Maybe he should just return it. But that would have been kind, and Kyle wasn't about to settle. He would win this battle, or whatever it was. Mike Ross would definitely not be getting his wallet back anytime soon. And Kyle was hungry. Grinning, he took the five dollar bill out of the pocket and headed for the vending machines.

…

Rachel was not having a good day. Kyle had been bothering her from the moment she'd sat down in her office, and she was extremely busy with something for one of the senior partners. Not only was she wholly uninterested in pursuing anything with Kyle, she was in a bad mood because Mike hadn't stopped by to deliver so much as a wave at her.

After their double date fiasco, Rachel had decided she'd lost any potential interest in the thing named Kyle, and gained even more interest in the problem named Mike.

But none of this, including the glares she was sending Kyle, was enough to stop him from constantly bothering her. Currently, he was standing next to her desk and delivering some sort of speech about how great he was.

She risked a glance up at him, hoping he'd get the hint and shove off, but instead he seemed to take this as a sign that he had her undivided attention.

She rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking, and tried to find anyone passing by her office in the hopes of instigating a rescue.

"So that's how I annihilated Tracy Spates at the mock trial in pre-law in '07. You should have seen her face. Not that she was as pretty as you, Rachel, but now that I think of it, she did bear a startling resemblance to Ross. Their expressions of defeat are uncannily similar. Weird…" Rachel risked a glance at him after he trailed off, to find him staring out her window with glazed eyes. He was probably trying to picture what Mike Ross would look like bowing down to His Majesty, Kyle.

Rachel glared at her computer screen and gritted her teeth. She refused to get fired for killing Kyle, but she had to admit that the three hole punch made of heavy steel and thick padded rubber she'd gotten from Norma last year was starting to look rather enticing. She tried to satisfy her urge by picturing what it would look like buried in Kyle's skull.

"Rachel?"

She snapped her attention back to Kyle. _Living Kyle_ , she reminded herself. "What?" she answered tersely.

"I asked if you wanted to have drinks with me and the guys tonight. Well, actually, just me," he said smugly, as if he expected her to beg him for the opportunity.

She allowed her hand to glide slowly towards the hole punch.

Sadly, Kyle was rescued by the unlikeliest of sources. Rachel had never been happy to see Louis, but she did let out a glowingly relieved smile when he headed towards her office. Her eyes flicked back to Kyle, hoping he hadn't seen his impending doom behind him.

Kyle paused just a moment to ignorantly return Rachel's smile for all the wrong reasons, when Louis shoved his way into her office.

"Mike, I need you to—" Louis stopped himself, realizing too late his mistake. He'd clearly assumed that Kyle had been Mike. Rachel allowed herself to not be offended in this particular case, since her restraint would result in the removal of her pest problem. Though she did allow herself to wish that it _had_ been Mike who'd been pestering her.

"Louis," Kyle choked. "I was working on those files you gave me and—"

"Whatever, just get these done too," Louis said as he shoved a rather large stack of file folders into Kyle's arms. "And stop wasting time. The paralegals have things to do." Louis risked a glance at Rachel at that, and looked surprised and not a little creeped out, to find Rachel smiling at him.

She silently snickered at her good fortune as the two men practically ran from her office.

It was probably for the best. That three hole punch would have been a bitch to clean.

...

Harvey pressed the button on his desk that turned Donna's one-way radio into a temporary two-way one.

"No, I have not seen Mike," Donna said.

Harvey glared at her through the glass of his door. He opened his mouth to reply with a clever retort.

"No, you won't get away with it." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Harvey grimaced. He had to learn how she did that.

"I'm not his keeper, Harvey."

Harvey set the intercom back to normal. Mike shouldn't have been more than thirty minutes. Louis must have stopped him or maybe that paralegal Mike was always chasing. Or _not_ chasing, now that he was with Jenny. God, Harvey knew _way_ too much about this kid's life.

 _Oh well_ , he thought. The files could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

His head hurt. Boxes and papers littered the floor. There was a moment of dizziness as his vision beat back black spots and he struggled to regain focus.

He was in what seemed to be some sort of file room or storage. There were rows upon rows of boxes stacked on metal shelves, surrounded by off-white walls. The metal shelves looked pretty sturdy, and he suspected he had the bruise to prove it.

He was slumped against one of the tall floor-to-ceiling shelves, his shoulder digging into the space that had formerly held boxes. His head, which felt like it had been hit a dozen times by a wrecking ball, was pressed uncomfortably into one of them. There were nasty rusted screws protruding wickedly from the side of the shelf. He had fortunately managed to miss them, but they still gave him a shudder. His right hip was also bothering him, aching almost as much as his shoulder. But none of these pains were his biggest problems at the moment.

He couldn't remember how any of this had happened. The memory was just not there. He didn't even recognize where he was. The room felt eerie—silent and empty.

With a groan and some effort, he lifted himself off the floor. His head was pounding, and his hand came away with some specks of blood when he investigated. He should probably be worried about that. And the whole no memory of the accident thing. Oh well. At least he was conscious. He doubted anyone would have found him down here for quite some time.

 _Well, I better clean this up and get going before Harvey decides to fire me_ , he thought. He bent down to gather the scattered papers when he froze. _Who's Harvey_?

He had no clue who this Harvey was. He had no idea why he'd be fired by him, and even less of an idea as to what he'd be fired from. He didn't even know where he was!

And worst of all, he couldn't remember his name.

It must have been from the blow to his head. Head wounds. Head traumas. What did he know about head traumas? 'Severe head traumas can result in various losses in brain function, including…'

Including…

For a second he had been looking at what seemed like some sort of medical journal, but it had disappeared suddenly as pain stabbed him in the skull. Remembering things hurts. He made a mental note of that.

He needed more information, so he tried to figure out what he had been looking at when he'd fallen. He picked up one of the papers. "Client Adrian Walker was fined $125,000 for breach of contract in Section C paragraph 8 in which the client violated his agreement to first consult with a representative of Pearson Hardman before…" Just legal jargon. But Pearson Hardman was _a_ name. He put down the paper without reading the rest of it, but found that he suddenly knew what the whole thing had said anyway. He could see it in his mind, the entire piece of paper in clear detail, and he'd already read the whole thing. Neat.

He felt really stupid as he realized he hadn't checked his own pockets yet. Surely he carried around some kind of ID or something. At least a cell phone. Anything would be useful at this point. He frantically began to scour his clothes for anything he could find. But his pockets were all empty except for a gum wrapper, a penny, and a folded piece of paper. He flipped the paper open and saw what looked like an ID number scrawled in neat writing across it. The image of the box that was now overturned on the floor popped into his head, and he just knew it was the locating number for that box that was on the note.

Mike gave one last glance to the room of all things lost and promised it that once he got his memory back, he'd clean it up right away. He headed out into the hallway and up some stairs to find himself in the lobby of an office building. The guide on the wall listed Pearson Hardman's floors and he resolved to take the elevator up to go find this Harvey person. Or anyone who could help him.

It was pretty obvious to him that Pearson Hardman was a law firm, since it screamed lawyers on its main floor. He didn't want to seem out of place, so he just picked a direction and stuck to it, trying to seem like he knew exactly where he was going. Harvey had to be around here somewhere, and he would run into him eventually.

After strolling through the office for some time, he came to a section that started to seem familiar, which wasn't necessarily a good thing since it launched another attack on his head. Wincing, he headed for the water cooler to his left. He had had enough, and he just wanted to find help, so he asked the nearest person if they had seen Harvey around.

"Umm, yeah. He's in his office. Just saw him with a client a minute ago," the woman said. She was pretty, but wasn't triggering any headaches, so he was fairly certain he didn't know her.

"Thanks," he said.

She eyed him with what may have been concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he managed and hastily pressed onward.

He was anything but fine, but he didn't want to talk. He needed to find Harvey. At least he was fairly certain that he i _knew/i_ Harvey. And that Harvey was definitely real.

Eventually the hallway turned into a room filled with cubicles, filled with various suits leafing through large stacks of file folders. Everyone looked really busy.

"Forget something?" a voice said to his left.

"What?" he said, just a little startled.

The man who'd stopped him gave him a large glare, arms crossed smugly.

He assumed from this man's question that he was here earlier, which meant he needed an excuse as to why he was back and looking suspicious. He could tell the truth, or at least part of it, anyway. "I was just looking for my wallet. I must have left it somewhere. You haven't seen it, have you?" Very smooth, he thought triumphantly.

"Nope," the other man paled. "I guess you're pretty good at losing things, though. Your wallet, the mock trial." This 'witty' retort was met with a blank stare which the smug guy seemed to take for defeat. He got the feeling that this guy took everything as a sign of defeat.

"Why don't you try your babysitter's down the hall? I'm sure Harvey will be happy to be reassured of your lack of greatness."

"Ummm, thanks. You've been surprisingly helpful," he replied.

The smug guy just stared back.

Rachel was now getting extremely annoyed that Mike hadn't stopped by to talk to her once. Usually he asked her how to fill out a form, or to help her with research, or to complain about how heartless Harvey was. But she still had yet to see him.

She frowned and bit into a chocolate chip muffin. Norma had given her sympathetic looks when she'd seen her in the break room, absently pouring too much sugar into her stale, luke-warm coffee. Did every secretary in the building know about her feelings for Mike?

But the really bad part of her day came when she saw Mike hurriedly walking over to a water cooler by reception. He must have been running an errand for Harvey if he was coming from the elevators. She had been about to approach him and ask him why he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, when some blonde bimbo who worked in HR walked up to him.

Rachel had peered around the corner she was hiding behind. They had exchanged only a few words, but Mike was looking even stranger and practically started running in the direction of…well, Rachel wasn't quite sure _where_ he was going. The bull pen was the opposite direction, and so was Harvey's office.

She followed him discreetly until he came the long way to the cubicles, when she'd been spotted by one of the other partners and gotten herself roped into taking their case research. By the time she'd escaped, Mike was gone.

The hallway did ultimately lead to offices. He took the increased pain in his skull as a sign that he was in the right place. He eventually came to an office that boasted: **Harvey Specter/Senior Partner**.

 _Finally, the right place_ , he thought, taking a step towards the door. But he was stopped by an impressively loud and definitely suggestive throat clearing.

He turned to find a redhead sitting at a desk just outside the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Uh," he said intelligently. He stared at her, silently begging her to let him in. He was so close!

"The files you begged Harvey to let you get?" she supplied.

"Oh right. Um. I forgot which ones he needed, so…" That seemed like a reasonable excuse, but there was a brief delay to her reply as she leveled a calculating look at him. He tried to seem as innocent as possible, which wasn't too hard when you honestly had no clue what was going on.

"Because you forget things all the time," she offered.

"I know. It's a bad habit. I'm working on it as we speak," he said.

"Mmhm," she agreed, and returned to whatever it was she had been doing. He gleefully returned to Harvey's door.

Harvey was sitting behind his desk, absently reading over something.

"Harvey—"

"I'm going to regret asking this, but what's your excuse this time?" Harvey asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

Briefly, he considered lying. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust this man. What if he thought he'd gone insane? Or fired him? He remembered his first thought back in the basement, about how Harvey would fire him for creating a mess. Was this guy someone who would actually fire him over something so trivial? He didn't want to lose his job, even if he had no idea what it was. _But this was Harvey_ , a second voice chimed in.

Deep breath. "I hit my head and now I have amnesia."

Harvey stared at him, a small—we're talking quantum levels—smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. "Points for originality," he began, "but if those files aren't on my desk in ten minutes, I'm going to tell Louis you have nothing to do." And with that Harvey returned his attention to whatever he'd been doing before, as if the conversation was over.

He couldn't believe it. At least he wasn't being fired. He stood there, hoping Harvey would soon realize that he was still there.

Harvey raised his eyebrows at him, reminding him strangely of the redhead outside, and asked, "Mike?"

He turned his head quickly to check that no one else was in the room or immediately outside Harvey's office. That there was no one else Harvey could have possibly been addressing. When he was sure they were alone, he let the name sink in. _He_ was Mike! Mike! His very own name!

"I love you," Mike said gratefully.

"Excuse me?" Harvey asked.


	3. Chapter 3

Mike could tell that Harvey was very confused. There was an odd expression on his face as he tried to decide if Mike was being serious.

"I knew it," the redhead's voice said on the intercom. Harvey shot her a nasty glare.

"He doesn't have amnesia! For God's sake, Donna!"

"Of course he doesn't. He loves you!" she said matter-of-factly. Harvey rolled his eyes.

"But I do!" Mike insisted.

Harvey's head swiveled back to Mike so fast that Mike feared he'd gotten whiplash. "You love me," Harvey choked, genuine surprise showing on his face.

"What? No! I mean, I don't know. I suppose I might—"

"What?"

"—but seeing as how I don't remember anything about you other than your name, I'm gonna say that at this precise moment I feel no strong emotions for you either way."

Harvey let out a deep breath. After almost a minute of torturous silence, he turned to Mike with a level look.

"Now that we've all had our fun here, can we get back to actual work? Mike, seriously, I need those files." And he returned once more to reading whatever he'd had on his desk.

Mike felt like he had lost the battle at this point, and his head was really hurting. He noticed the bottle of scotch by Harvey's expansive windows, and he headed for it. He could really use a drink.

"Go ahead, help yourself," Harvey said sarcastically.

Mike uncapped the bottle and started to pour himself a glass, when Harvey snatched it from his hands.

"No, Mike, that wasn't sarcasm."

Mike didn't even bother with Harvey or the scotch as he spotted Harvey's huge one-wall record collection. It looked really familiar, and even though he knew that familiar things meant pain, he couldn't help himself. He just had to riffle through them.

He heard Harvey protesting behind him, but ignored him as he found a record he recognized enough to make him pull it off the shelf.

" _Cream_ ," he read off the cover, the neon colors swirling together in a psychedelic pattern. Mike felt like he liked this band for some reason. It felt safe.

"If you don't put that record back right now, you're fired," Harvey threatened.

But Mike couldn't help himself. He felt like he'd lost control. "'Eric Patrick Clapton is an English guitarist and singer-songwriter. He is the only three-time inductee to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: once as a solo artist, and separately as a member of _The Yardbirds_ and _Cream_. He has been referred to as one of the most important and influential guitarists of all time. One of his most famous songs was the _Cream_ variation of the song "Crossroads", which was about… It was about…'"

He blinked as the image he'd been reading disappeared. He waited for the searing pain he'd become accustomed to, but he was surprised when nothing happened.

"Mike?" Harvey asked softly. There was some new expression in his eyes that Mike couldn't read. It looked alien on Harvey's face.

Suddenly Mike remembered how rude he'd been, trying to steal Harvey's probably overpriced scotch, and pawing through his records. He should probably apologize. "Um, I—"

Then the pain hit him like a falling piano. His ears were even ringing too as everything became only pain.

...

Harvey hadn't really believed his associate had amnesia, because that was ridiculous. And Mike was always trying to joke around with everyone. He'd simply assumed that Donna and the kid had orchestrated the whole thing.

But the blank look on Mike's face after he'd wandered over to Harvey's scotch and then his vinyls, had planted a seed of doubt in Harvey's mind.

He admitted he had been angry when Mike had tried to drink his prized and definitely over-priced scotch. He didn't even think Mike liked scotch. He was even angrier when Mike started touching his carefully arranged and very valuable records. He was furious when Mike had blatantly ignored Harvey's strict instructions that threatened him to put that record down immediately. It seemed almost as if Mike couldn't quite hear Harvey—that he was lost in his own world—and Harvey was becoming very concerned for the well-being of that Cream album Mike had pulled out.

He recognized Mike's expression as he did his memory thing, like he was reading something only he could see, faster than anyone else could.

The speech about Eric Clapton was certainly surprising. First, because Harvey would never have thought Mike even knew about any tasteful music. Second, because Mike hadn't even flinched when Harvey threatened to fire him.

But what worried Harvey most of all, was Mike's clearly unplanned stop in his rant.

"Mike?" He tried to mask his concern for his associate's sanity.

Mike blinked back at him, a small hesitant smile creeping onto his face.

"Um, I—" Mike said, just before he went kind of slack. He shut his eyes in what looked like pain, a hand reaching up to press on his head.

Harvey steered him over to his couch, and frowned at how easily Mike had complied. He went to retrieve some scotch.

He took a generous taste from his glass when he finally heard a quiet, "Harvey?"

His associate's face still held confusion, but now there was a small look of recognition in his eyes that until now Harvey hadn't noticed was missing. Maybe now the man had come to his senses? He waited patiently for his associate to display some evidence of sanity.

"Ummm," Mike said. They were not off to a good start.

Mike's eyes widened suddenly. "Oh my God! I don't have the files! I was on my way to get them when…"

"When…?" Harvey prompted when Mike didn't continue.

"When…"

"Okay, well I think you've sufficiently proven you're crazy, so—"

"I'm _not_ crazy," his associate challenged. He seemed to have forgotten suddenly about his headache.

"Fine. Let me rephrase. I think you definitely have something wrong with your head—"

"Amnesia," Mike insisted.

"—so I'm going to have someone take you to the hospital," Harvey finished. He already felt he was being way too caring, but if Mike's brain wasn't functioning properly then Harvey wouldn't be able to slack off so much.

"Go get your things and I'll even have Ray drive you over there." Okay, so he was feeling generous.

Mike's face was full of exasperation.

"Look, just keep yourself busy for thirty minutes while I deal with Adrian, and I'll take you myself," he granted. He was expecting the typical Mike response of some almost-clever quip, and the complete lack of any response made him glance back at his associate. Mike was sitting awkwardly on his couch, rubbing absently at the back of his skull. Harvey made a mental note to ask about that later. Right now he was more willing to deal with the moron Adrian Walker than with the decaying sanity of his associate.


	4. Chapter 4

After enjoying a nice bag of skittles, a coffee, and some pretzels, Kyle headed back to his desk. He was feeling just a little bit guilty about stealing Ross's money, but he also wanted to rub it in the guy's face.

He had just returned to his desk when the man in question walked up the aisle. Ross was just standing there, like he was looking for something, and Kyle suspected he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"Forget something?" Kyle asked, smugly crossing his arms.

"What?" Ross looked strangely confused, like he didn't know why Kyle was talking to him. "I was just looking for my wallet. I must have left it somewhere. You haven't seen it, have you?"

"Nope," he said just a bit too quickly. _He knows_ , Kyle thought, turning slightly pale. The guilt started to creep up inside and he viciously shoved it back down as he remembered he was supposed to respond. "I guess you're pretty good at losing things though. Your wallet, the mock trial." Kyle had expected a better response from Ross. Usually he would get some sign of anger or annoyance, but instead he only received a hurt stare. The guilt was back, only now it was making things worse. He couldn't stop the words that came out next. "Why don't you try your babysitter's down the hall? I'm sure Harvey will be happy to be reassured of your lack of greatness."

Mike gave Kyle that same hurt look, but there was a hint of a smile in there now. "Ummm, thanks," he said, gazing down the hall Kyle had indicated. "You've been surprisingly helpful."

Ross walked away as though he were being chased by a plague of locusts. But Kyle was left standing there confused for the second time that day.

How had he been helpful? He'd been trying to be _un_ helpful. He tried to recall what he'd said to Ross, and he was almost certain that no one in their right mind would think Kyle was being helpful. And why was Mike running from him all the time? Kyle started to form a suspicion, but he decided he needed more evidence before making any conclusions. And some free muffins wouldn't hurt, either, he thought as he headed towards the partners' offices.

...

It was only noon, and Kyle still had nothing to do. Louis had attacked him outside his office while Kyle was distracted by Norma's delicious baked goods. Seriously, who knew that woman had talents other than being creepy?

"I thought I told you I wanted those briefs done by two," Louis said. He was giving Kyle that usual glare, the one slightly lower in intensity than the one he gave to Ross.

Kyle didn't have to do the briefs because they were already done, but there was no reason he had to tell Louis that.

"I was just—"

"I don't need to remind you, Kyle, that just because you won the mock trial, doesn't mean you can slack off around here. I want those briefs on my desk within the hour. No exceptions." His office door was shut behind him and Kyle just stood there, the rest of his really clever excuse completely ignored. That kept happening to him today. Why did no one let him finish his sentences?

Norma was giving him a strange look, and it took Kyle a full minute to realize that it was pity. She'd never given him any look except the ones she gave to Louis before. It sent a shiver down his spine. But it did get him an extra muffin.

They were chocolate chip, and Kyle liked chocolate chip. But now he was really regretting stealing Mike's five dollars earlier. Not the stealing bit. But the buying all those snacks with it, that part he felt bad about.

He looked down at the muffins in his hand, and noticed that one was slightly lumpy and looked malformed. Kyle gave a quick sweep of the cubicles to make sure no one was looking and set the disfigured muffin down on Ross's desk. It was probably more valuable than his wallet, anyway.

 _There, that should cover the guilt_ , Kyle thought. And Ross would never suspect that Kyle had given it to him. He'd probably think Rachel had left it there instead.

Kyle decided to stop worrying about this entirely, and focus on pretending to do the briefs while taking a large bite of his perfectly shaped muffin.

"Hi!"

Kyle went into a coughing fit as Ross appeared before him. Where had he come from? He hoped he hadn't seen him place the muffin on his desk.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound snide. This in fact, had the opposite effect, since he was still choking slightly on a rogue chocolate chip. Ross frowned in concern at him.

"Are you okay? I can find you some water…"

Kyle cleared his throat, dislodging any remaining choking hazards as he stared dumbfounded at Ross. Was Ross being kind to him? Maybe it was a ruse. It must be some kind of ruse!

"Like I need your help," he muttered weakly.

Ross gave a half smile at this and followed it with a shrug.

Kyle stared at him suspiciously. "What did you want? Did Harvey kick you out again?"

"Heh. Yeah, actually. He's kind of mean to me. Hey! Muffin!" Mike said, his eyes lighting up. He looked kind of miserable, Kyle noticed. There was a strange lost look in his eyes, and he kept absently moving his hand up to rub against one spot on his head.

"Get your own," Kyle said possessively. Mike gave him a sad look of longing. "Geez, there's one on your desk, moron. Do you need help finding it?"

"No! Of course I know where _my_ desk is! Pfft!" And then Ross did something odd. Instead of stalking back to his desk in defeat—the usual course of action after talking to Kyle—he just stood there and looked around.

Kyle suddenly realized that he didn't care. This was his enemy, and he couldn't care less about Mike Ross, no matter how odd his behavior. He certainly wasn't interested at all in the fact that for some reason Mike had been treating him almost kindly, that he seemed to look at Kyle with an odd expression, and that he seemed to be spending his free time trying to actually talk to Kyle.

And that's when Kyle realized that Mike Ross had a crush on him.

It all made sense now! Mike always running away from him, looking embarrassed. Mike trying to joke around with him. Mike having done all of Kyle's work for him. And that thing with the muffins must have been Mike's attempt at flirting. That's why Ross had gotten so upset at that dinner double-date. He wasn't interested in Rachel or that blonde chick! He was jealous that he wasn't with Kyle!

 _But when did this start?_ Kyle wondered. It must have been after Kyle beat him in the mock trial. After Ross realized just how great Kyle was. That had to have been it.

"Thanks for the muffin," a voice said above him.

Mike Ross was back in front of his cubicle, leaning on the cubicle wall, and munching on the disfigured muffin.

"Oh no, it wasn't—"

"Hey, you haven't seen my wallet anywhere, have you? I really can't find it."

Kyle stared at Ross. Did the man really not know that Kyle had it? "Um, yeah," he managed. Kyle started rummaging on his desk for the leather billfold, which had mysteriously disappeared.

"Just the two useless people I wanted to see," a slithery voice said. Louis had somehow shown up right behind Ross, who Kyle swears must have jumped about ten feet in the air.

"I was just finishing those briefs, Louis," Kyle defended.

"I want them now," Louis said. Kyle stopped searching for Mike's useless wallet and shoved the briefs at him. The man nodded at him and turned his beady eyes on Mike.

"Mr. Ross. Good to see you're slacking off as usual. I want the Brezhinsky files proofed and on my desk in twenty minutes."

Mike stiffened. He looked panicky, Kyle noticed. "But Harvey said—"

"Do I look like I care what Harvey said? Twenty minutes." And with that Louis was gone.

Mike's shoulders slumped as he headed towards his own desk. Kyle ducked down and tried to spy on him as Ross began searching his—for once—empty desk. When he saw the man coming back his way, he sighed heavily. _Why me?_ he thought.

"Hey, um, do you know where the Brezhinsky files are? I don't really remember where I put them. And if I'm not back in Harvey's office in ten minutes…" He let out a large sigh.

Kyle decided to be nice, mostly to see how Ross would react. He suspected if he acted nice, then Ross would preen and his suspicions would be confirmed. "You already gave them to Louis, and he gave them to me, and I just gave them back to him. So don't worry about the—Wait. You don't remember?"

Mike's eyes widened in a panic, and he glanced at his watch. "Sorry! Harvey's waiting for me! Thanks for the muffin!" And with that, Mike Ross was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike surged down the hall at breakneck speed. He wasn't actually late to Harvey's office, but he really didn't want anyone else to know that he was having a little problem with his memory being missing. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like that would go very badly for him.

So with that he went back to the red head's desk. _Donna. Her name was Donna_ , he thought.

She didn't even look up at him as she said, "Where are your things?"

"Oh, um, I couldn't find them."

"Uh-huh." She glanced up at him then and frowned, though Mike was fairly certain he saw a hint of a smile. "You have chocolate on your lip."

He hastily scrubbed the chocolate off with the back of his hand. Donna was still giving him the evil eye, though. "Yeah, sorry. Chocolate chip muffin."

"You mean to tell me there was chocolate and you didn't bring me any?"

Mike withered. "Well, actually, I'm not sure where it came from. That guy gave it to me, but I don't know how he got it."

Donna, being Donna, of course, knew where the muffins came from. Norma's baking was one of those delicious secrets only reserved for enemies of Louis. But Mike didn't know that. " 'That guy'?"

"Yeah, I think we're friends but…I mean, I don't even remember his name. I just couldn't tell him that," Mike said.

"And did this 'friend' of yours mention anything about a mock trial, perhaps?" Donna asked conspiratorially.

"Hey, yeah, he did! He said, 'I guess you're pretty good at losing things though. Your wallet, the mock trial.' Hey, you don't by any chance know his name, do you?"

"Who's name?" Harvey said, startling Mike almost as much as that beady-eyed man had.

"My friend's," Mike answered.

Harvey didn't even take a second before responding with, "You don't have any friends." He looked over at Donna. "Did you clear my schedule, Donna? Or has my associate recovered enough of his brain functions yet to get back to work?"

She gave a pitying look to Mike. "I think he's still in need of training."

"I was referring to the fact that he's insisting he has amnesia."

"Oh," she said, feigning surprise. "Well, he does seem to have forgotten two very important things."

Harvey raised an eyebrow at Mike. "And what's that?"

"Well, he forgot that I'm Donna and I know everything."

Harvey scoffed. "He forgets that on a daily basis, Donna." Mike was starting to get annoyed. They were clearly making fun of him, but he had no clever retort, and his silence seemed to be earning him questioning gazes from Harvey.

"Harvey, I'm afraid this is no laughing matter. He thinks he and Kyle are friends."

Harvey looked very serious and pensive at this, frown lines creasing his forehead. Mike was too busy reveling in the fact that he now had a name for the muffin donor.

"Mike?" Harvey asked him.

"He gave me a muffin," Mike argued.

"Are you sure it wasn't poisoned?" Donna whispered.

"He helped me out! That beady-eyed guy—Louis?—was asking me for the Brezhinsky files or something, and Kyle said he already turned them in for me!"

Harvey and Donna shared a look. Mike was starting to feel very out of place.

"My office. Now." Harvey held the door open for Mike, and then poured himself a tumbler of scotch.

"Harvey, I really do have—"

"Sit,"

Mike sat on Harvey's couch and watched as Harvey emptied the tumbler in one go. He could really use some of that scotch for himself. Or maybe some other form of relief. But no, he had promised Harvey he wouldn't do that anymore.

 _Wouldn't do what?_ he thought. His head gave another painful throb, though it was considerably less than the previous painful pulses of the day.

"What?" he said when he noticed Harvey staring at him. He rubbed his head where the pain was most intense, shifting beneath Harvey's steady gaze.

"You really don't remember?" Harvey asked, voice quiet and low.

"I really don't remember."

"So you don't remember all those days you spent in the library studying for the Bar at Harvard?"

Mike had no clue what Harvey was talking about, but his response seemed uncontrollably automatic. "Ha. Ha. I didn't _have_ to study for the Bar, and we both know I never actually went to Harvard."

Harvey just frowned at him. Mike's eyes widened when he finally realized what he had said. And then all of a sudden, everything made sense. He knew exactly who he was, how he had gotten a job, all of it. But he had no idea what he had been doing. Getting files? Then why was he on Harvey's couch? Hadn't this already happened before? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Harvey? What's going on?"

Harvey set his tumbler down with a loud clunk. "Mike?"

"Please don't fire me," he said preemptively.

"I'm not gonna fire you, kid."

"I think I may be losing my mind," Mike said hurriedly. He didn't know how long he had before he blacked out again. He had to tell Harvey…something. What was it? It was important! Why couldn't he remember?

"Mike, calm down. Tell me the last thing you remember." Harvey's calm, steady voice was like an anchor, and Mike latched on to it. Still, he could already feel himself slipping away.

"The file room. I was trying to get the box down." He knew there was something important hiding in that memory. What was it?

"And then?"

"…My head hurts," he whispered. He reached up to touch the bruise on his skull, and he could feel himself getting lost. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay! He had to tell Harvey!

"Mike, stay with me."

"Harvey. Help me," Mike pleaded. And then he was gone.

"Mike?" Harvey was shouting at him. His head really hurt. Why was Harvey shouting at him?

"I'm right here," he said.

"No you're not," Harvey countered. Mike didn't see how he could argue with that one, and his head was throbbing too much for him to care.


	6. Chapter 6

"Stop that."

Mike froze. "What?"

Harvey gestured to him. "That. With your hand. You keep touching your head." Harvey was approaching him now. Mike stood rapidly, scurrying away from Harvey's reach.

He hadn't paid it too much attention before, because he was too busy denying anything was wrong. After all, if Mike could still work, then Harvey couldn't care less if his associate had turned into a baboon, let alone lost his memory. But after Mike did that creepy remembering stunt back there, Harvey was sufficiently convinced that fixing his associate's fragmenting mind was now a priority. And Donna had already cleared his schedule.

"Mike," he warned.

His associate put his hands up. "Really, Harvey, it's fine."

Harvey smirked. If the kid wanted to do things the hard way—now _that_ was typical Mike—then they'd do things the hard way. "Okay. Donna, would you call an ambulance, please?"

Mike's eyes widened in surprise. This Mike was much easier to read than the other one. Harvey hadn't thought it was possible, but then this _was_ Mike. Maybe this would be fun after all.

"Sit," he said. Mike actually complied, something akin to fear in his eyes.

Harvey walked over behind the couch and bit his lip in sympathy. Wait. Harvey Specter didn't _do_ sympathy. What was wrong with him? Mike was the one with the mental problems. He made a note to schedule an appointment with his physician later.

The cut on Mike's head was mostly closed, with only a smidgeon of dried blood left on it barely visible through his hair. It looked like it had hurt though.

"Hey, genius. Did you know you cut your head open?" He asked as he moved back to the scotch and set his empty glass down.

Mike's mouth twisted. "It's fine. It only hurts when…I mean. It doesn't really hurt at all anymore."

Harvey just stared at him.

"When I try to remember things. Any time I see something that looks familiar. Just talking to you right now hurts."

Harvey was silent a minute. He had to think through and process what Mike had just told him. It certainly explained the odd pauses in Mike's memory quotes, and the thinking he had friends. (Harvey was convinced that no amount of explanations could successfully account for Mike thinking Kyle was nice). He needed to see how this had all happened. Mike—the real Mike—had said something about getting files. So it must have happened then.

"Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go down to that file room, and we're going to try and get you back to…whatever it was you were before you hit your head."

Mike started to say something, but they were both distracted by Donna opening the door.

"Jessica wants to see you. I'll make sure he doesn't incur more injuries while you're gone."

Harvey swore in his head. Bad timing. When had this day devolved into such a soap opera? He worked at a law firm, for Christ's sake! Things like amnesia happening to his associates were not remotely realistic.

Mike looked up at her. "You really have to work harder if you want to get rid of those Band-Aids." Donna just smiled at him. Harvey realized from Mike's now confused expression that he'd just had one of his "episodes" again. He'd have to fix it later. Jessica—or rather, Harvey—came first.

"DEFCON?" he asked Donna hesitantly.

Donna pursed her lips, pensive expression on her face. "I'd say we're at a 3, but I'd start prepping the nukes, just in case."

Harvey groaned inwardly. He sometimes wished Louis was Jessica's favorite, if only so she'd take her anger out on him instead. Scratch that. He'd never wish that, even on Jessica.

"Don't push the little red button without me," Harvey said, stepping from the room. He looked at Mike as if to convey he'd be back soon so his associate should keep his ass out of trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

Kyle stretched as he finished the last of the latest stack of briefs from Louis. These weren't all finished by Mike Ross, but they were mostly done. Kyle felt very lucky, and he'd never had such an easy day at work. With a shudder, he tried to imagine how much time it had taken for Ross to do all these briefs. He wondered how it was that Louis kept giving him all the files that had already been done, and where all the actual to-dos were. He didn't even think about how busy all the other associates were today.

Kyle was only vaguely contemplating all these things, though. What he was mostly thinking of was Mike Ross. The man didn't forget things. Kyle had heard all sorts of crazy stories about how Mike had rewritten an entire seventy-two page contract from memory once.

So if Mike didn't forget things, why had he said he'd forgotten where the Brezhinsky files were? It could have been possible that Ross was just so busy doing all of Kyle's work that he'd forgotten about it. But Kyle suspected that Ross had just been looking for an excuse to talk to him.

That must have been it. Kyle was finally seeing Mike Ross for what he was: totally head over heels in love with Kyle Durant.

He had the sudden urge to talk to the man, to question him, to force him to confess. That way, he could respectfully humiliate his nemesis in front of the whole office. It'd be just like the mock trial. He smiled gleefully as he scanned for Louis and then headed towards Harvey Specter's office in search of his admirer.

The hallway was disappointingly empty. So was Harvey's office. Wait. Mike was sitting on the couch staring into space. _Slacker_ , thought Kyle. _Maybe he's getting fired_? He hoped.

He headed for the door, ready to interrogate Ross.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Kyle turned to find Donna glaring at him.

"I was just—"

She shook her head. "Leaving? I know you were, sweetie." Kyle winced. She was using terms of endearment; that was a bad sign.

Harvey's door opened with a click. "Kyle?" He turned to see Mike smiling at him. Maybe this would work after all.

"Got something you want to tell me, Ross?" He hinted. He felt awkward suddenly. Donna's eyes felt like they were giving him third degree burns.

"Uhhh. Thanks for the muffin?"

 _Damn_. "I meant other than that. You know, about all that work you did for me?" He was starting to feel physically ill with all the niceness.

Mike frowned. "Oh. Right. That work. 'Cause…I did that for you…"

Now they were getting somewhere. "Right. You did it…for _me_ ," Kyle said slowly.

Mike gave him one of those new smiles. _The poor kid has it bad_ , Kyle thought. "Right. Well." Kyle remembered that his suspicions weren't actually confirmed yet. What else could he say, though? He was out of ideas. He really should have thought this through more, but the audience that consisted of Donna really wasn't helping him.

"Your wallet!" he shouted suddenly, remembering that he'd finally found the item on his desk. He shoved it at Mike, sans the five dollar bill.

Mike's face lit up. Kyle had never seen him so happy. His stomach cramped at the thought. "You found it!" Mike said as he opened the thing. He pulled out his ID and read it, his eyes shutting tight in what looked almost like pain, but what Kyle interpreted as bit-back tears.

Kyle found this behavior very strange, but he was even more disturbed by the very large and animated hug that he now found himself in. Mike's arms had thrown themselves around Kyle's torso, arms and all, and now Kyle was certain Mike had tears in his eyes. Kyle honestly, for once in his life, had nothing to say. It may have had something to do with his lungs being crushed though. Just a thought.

Mike suddenly realized what he had done, and released Kyle as quickly as he'd embraced him. "I…I have to…um, get some coffee. For Harvey. And Donna." And with that Mike was gone.

Kyle blinked after him for a little bit until he came to his senses. He had wanted proof and he'd gotten it. So why did he suddenly feel let down? It's not like he'd been expecting a declaration of eternal love, although he'd understand if Mike had felt that way.

Suddenly, Kyle didn't want to publicly embarrass Mike. At least not yet. He didn't feel that way about the guy, or even like him at all, but he couldn't use this against him. It wasn't right. And he'd probably never survive Donna's wrath, either, judging by the look she was giving him. How could he solve this? He thought of Rachel immediately. As Mike's closest friend, she'd know everything. He'd just have to find out how serious Ross' crush was and then find a way to tell him his feelings. Not a problem.

"I have to go—"

"Get some coffee?" Donna grinned at him like a lioness grins at her prey as her jaws snap around its neck.

Kyle did the only sane thing to do. He ran.

...

Kyle decided that he desperately needed some hard evidence. The hug Mike had given him in front of Harvey's dragon was just the sort of motivation he needed to inquire with Rachel. Feeling confident, and after checking he wasn't followed by any red-heads with sharp nails, he stepped into Rachel's office.

The paralegal was busily typing on her computer and didn't even look up as Kyle entered. He decided to skip right to the point.

"So you and Ross. Are you two, going out?"

She stopped typing and looked up at him then. "No," she answered, eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't see how that's any of your business." Her hand hovered almost absently to a three hole punch on the corner of her desk.

Kyle happily continued, "Why not, is he seeing anyone else? That blonde chick maybe?" Kyle hadn't liked her. She hadn't even checked him out all night and had clung to Ross like she was afraid he'd leave her any second, which obviously he'd wanted to do, since he was more interested in Kyle.

"How would I know?" Rachel answered angrily. Then her expression changed to bewilderment. "Why do you care?"

 _Oh shit_ , Kyle thought. He needed to distract her. He couldn't just outright ask her if Ross had the hots for him. That would destroy his brilliant plan. "Well, I was just thinking maybe we could go on a double date again."

 _Girls like double dates_ , he reassured himself.

"You want to go on a double date."

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

"With Mike."

"Well we had so much fun last time!" Well, Kyle had certainly had fun.

"Uh-huh. Why do you want to know so much about Mike, all of a sudden?"

Kyle gave a long pause, trying to stress the weight of his next words. "I think you know the reason why," he said significantly.

"Huh?" Rachel looked confused, but there was a gleam in her eyes. Kyle assumed this meant she knew exactly what he was talking about, and was just trying to play dumb for Ross' sake.

"I bet he talks about me a lot, right?" he hinted, hopeful.

"Ummmm…I have a lot of work to do." She slowly turned back to her computer, her hand finally releasing its tight grip on the hole punch that Kyle hadn't noticed had moved into her lap.

"But I bet he—" Kyle tried.

"Oh look! My phone is ringing. Hello? Donna?"

Kyle was fairly certain that her phone had _not_ been ringing, but he didn't want to take any chances after hearing that name. He half believed—and so did all the other associates—that the fiery secretary had a psychic link with all the female employees. How else did she know so many secrets?

He gave Rachel a wink and tried not to run from her office.


	8. Chapter 8

Deep in the recesses of the basement file room, where Harvey was certain he'd find the Ark of the Covenant, the room Hoffa was buried in, and the entrance to the Hellmouth, he finally came upon the scene of the crime, so to speak.

The aisle in question was unremarkable, and didn't vary in any way from those other shelves in the file room. Well, except for the large number of file folders and moldy papers strewn across the concrete floor and the overturned box. The shelf closest to the door Harvey had come through seemed to have been the one that had contained the now empty and floor-bound box, while the shelf further from the door was looking slightly worse for the wear. One of the boxes on the bottom tier had been pushed off and there was something brown on the metal slat above the empty recess. Harvey grimaced as he realized it was probably Mike's blood.

Then he saw the nasty rusted screws all along the shelf, and immediately felt better knowing that Mike had missed them. He'd have had a lot of tedious paperwork to be filling out instead of investigating the origins of his associate's amnesia had Mike fallen on one. He frowned as he tried to figure out how the former was any worse than the latter. He supposed if Mike _had_ died, then he'd have had to take the time to find another associate. That would have been decidedly worse.

Harvey crouched down to examine the files strewn across the floor. He really hated that scent of musty papers coupled with mildew and dust. It brought back bad memories of his earlier days. He hoped he would find some answers here, and quick. He massaged his temples as he tried to imagine what sort of trouble Mike had probably gotten himself into now that Harvey wasn't there.

All of a sudden his phone rang, startling him out of his rather amusing thoughts of Mike doing something ridiculous like hugging Kyle. Harvey couldn't resist the laughter that spilled softly from his throat.

He took out his phone—his private line—and peered curiously at the number. He didn't recognize it. But it could be a client. He decided to answer it.

"Hello?" he said. He made a rule never to respond with his name on his private line to someone he didn't know. Only an idiot would do that. Harvey sighed inwardly as he realized that Mike probably did that all the time.

"Umm, Mr. Specter? Harvey?" a female voice said. It sounded really familiar.

"You have the pleasure of knowing my name, but I'm afraid I'm at a loss," he replied smoothly. If it was a client, he'd just landed her.

There was a slight laugh, which actually annoyed him a little. People don't laugh at him. Well, except Donna. And Mike. He really needed to fix that last one. "Sorry. It's Jenny, Mike's girlfriend. He gave me your number if there was an emergency."

"An emergency?" Harvey grimaced inwardly. He had enough problems. And where did Mike get off giving his number out to strangers?

"Oh, no! It's nothing to do with me. I was just wondering if he was okay. I haven't seen him in a few days, 'cause I'm in California, and he's not answering his phone, so…"

Harvey sorted through his thoughts as quickly as he could. It probably would be a bad idea to worry Mike's girlfriend with the news that her boyfriend now hadn't the faintest clue as to her existence, let alone their relationship. Telling her would only worry her, and Harvey planned to have Mike back to normal within the hour so that everyone could get on with their far more important lives. Then he realized, after careful consideration, and a somewhat suspiciously long pause on his end of the phone, that he couldn't care less about Mike's relationship status. This whole scenario was utterly ridiculous.

"Hello?" she questioned, and Harvey was startled out of his pensive mood.

"Um, sorry. Working on an important case, right now. Mike is fine. He's here with me, actually." _Damn!_ he thought. That's not what he'd meant to do! He was supposed to just say he was busy and hang up. Well, he could do it now, at least.

"Oh, great!" _Hang up, Harvey!_ "Can I talk to him? I'm at this really awesome winery and I was hoping he could help me pick out a gift for everyone at the office."

Harvey swore. Loudly.

"Mr. Specter? Are you okay?" Jenny's voice sounded worried. Why hadn't he hung up the phone?

"I'm fine. Um, Mike isn't here right now."

"But you just said he was working a case with you." _Damn logic._

"He is, but he stepped out to chase down a witness. I'm sure he just forgot his phone. I'll tell him to call you when he has free time. But it's a big case. In fact, he'll probably be very busy for the whole day."

"But—"

"What's that Donna? Jessica wants to see me?" Harvey rolled his eyes as he realized he should have done this from the beginning. "I'll tell him to call you."

"Please—" The click echoed in the concrete room as he hung up—finally—on Mike's girlfriend.

Harvey let his fingers slide up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He hadn't been this annoyed in a few weeks. And that—that was under special circumstances. Special circumstances that Mike had helped him to get out of. He really needed to fix his associate.

 _Back to work_ , he sighed.

The files that Harvey had needed were on the floor, and he gathered them quickly, tucking them under one arm. But as he was stuffing the rest of the files into the overturned box he noticed that something was wrong. These boxes were usually stuffed so full that you had to pull their mildewed, moth-eaten file folders out with brute force, barely avoiding ripping your nails off in your efforts. He replaced the file on Adrian Walker he had needed, but it was no use. The box was still too roomy. Harvey frowned. It was probably nothing.

He stood and picked up the box, trying to shove it back on top of the shelf, which was just a little too high for him. He grudgingly balanced the box on one hand as it teetered on the edge of the shelf, and then stepped onto the lowest slat to shove the box up.

As he resumed his attempt to place the box, something popped in his back. _Damn it!_ he thought, cursing his aging body. Wait a minute! He wasn't aging! He was still young! _This is ridiculous!_ he thought.

He paused in his mental rant long enough to realize that he was rather vulnerable in this position. Trying to lift a heavy box off a shelf, it was more than likely that Mike had just slipped and fallen. But for all Mike's faults, he wasn't _that_ clumsy.

The too empty box raised the hairs on the back of Harvey's neck. He needed to find out what was missing from it, since he was certain there was indeed something missing.

Mike had been trying to tell him what had happened back in Harvey's office during his second "episode". Remembering had seemed to not only confuse Mike, but to hurt him, if his rubbing at the cut on the back of his skull was any indication. He needed desperately to know what Mike knew. Even if it hurt him, Harvey winced.


	9. Chapter 9

Kyle had set about finishing his imaginary workload after exiting Rachel's office. Louis kept walking by like he was hoping it would make Ross magically appear. This just meant that Louis was instead forced to give Ross's work to everyone else.

Mysteriously, however, Kyle was exempt from this, as he made himself look on the verge of a panic attack every time Louis walked by.

So instead of working, Kyle once again found himself with nothing better to do than think of his nemesis and ways to humiliate him.

He'd found enough information to conclude that Mike Ross was indeed interested in pursuing him. But he'd have to wait to execute his plan to humiliate Ross. The current problem was that Mike was nowhere to be found. He'd last been seen in Harvey's office, and there was no way Kyle was going back over there again. At least not while that demon was guarding the entrance.

Kyle shivered in fear and wished he hadn't eaten those skittles from earlier. They weren't playing nice with the muffin.

He decided a stretch would do him good, and maybe he could figure out where Ross had gone if he did a little snooping. So he stood and made like he was heading for the bathrooms.

But then he saw someone who looked suspiciously like a police officer walking towards him, and he stopped after the man called out to him.

"Can I help you, officer?"

The man looked around, eyes eerily shifty. "Uh, yeah. I'm looking for the owner of this. Maybe you could help me out?"

Kyle looked at what the man was holding out to him. It seemed to be a cell phone. It looked vaguely familiar.

"Do you know whose it is?"

The man—cop?—shook his head, eyes still darting around, before saying, "Nope. Not a clue, and none of the contacts are answering."

Kyle could hardly believe that. As someone who had a _lot_ of very important people on his contact list, he found it unbelievable that not one of them would answer their phone. It was the middle of the day, after all, not three in the morning.

His incredulity must have shown on his face because the officer—Kyle wasn't quite sure if he really was a policeman—decided to elaborate. "He only has three numbers in his phone."

Kyle had a sneaking suspicion now as to whose phone it could be. There was only one person in the entire building who had any reason to never enter anyone into his contact list. But he had to make sure.

"What are their names?"

The officer narrowed his eyes, finally focusing on something for more than twenty seconds. After a moment he said, "Harvey, Jenny, and Rachel."

Kyle smirked at his own brilliance. Now he just needed to find a way to get that phone back in his possession. "I do know the owner of that cell phone. I can return it to him, if you'd like."

The cop snatched the phone back, stuffing it in his pocket and glaring at Kyle. "No that's okay. I just need to talk with him, if you don't mind."

Kyle resisted the sudden and surprising urge to pout. He actually felt a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to use Ross' phone in his ingenious scheme. "Sure. He should come back to his desk sooner or later."

And with that Kyle found himself leading this stranger over to Mike's desk.

When they reached it, the officer thanked him for his help and then went around to sit in Ross's chair. Kyle sneaked back to his own desk and peered over the top, spying, yet again, on Mike Ross's cubicle.

The officer was rummaging through the materials, and started jiggling the handle of the filing cabinet in an attempt to open it. For some inexplicable reason, this angered Kyle. That stuff was private. Not that it would have stopped him from trying to do the same thing, but that was different! Kyle had special privileges, having beat Mike in the mock trial. Plus, he considered himself in Mike's good graces so long as his rival maintained his little crush.

So with this new anger, Kyle stood and walked swiftly over to the stranger. "What are you doing?" he said rudely.

The man looked up from the filing cabinet, startled.

"You can't touch any of his stuff," Kyle elaborated.

The man waved a hand at him. "Police business. Mind your own and go back to work." Kyle frowned as he detected a hint of a New York accent that had definitely not been there before.

"Yeah, that's not how it works," he said as he rounded the corner and physically turned the chair, forcing the officer away from Mike's filing cabinet. Only Kyle and the other associates were allowed to mess with Ross!

"Would you like me to arrest you for impeding an officer?" The man's shifty eyes were back, and Kyle had a thought that maybe this guy wasn't who he claimed he was.

"You're in a law office," he said threateningly. Everyone was looking over at them now, curiosity openly displayed on their faces. _Lots of witnesses,_ Kyle thought smugly as he smirked at the "cop".

"Oh, and unless that's evidence, and you can prove it, I'll be taking that phone." He held out his hand, trying to exude power the way he'd seen Jessica Pearson and Harvey Specter do. Louis definitely exuded something, but power wasn't the word any of the associates would choose. Not without a lot of incentives, which Kyle would be more than willing to take.

The man blinked angrily, shoved the phone and the chair at him, and made his escape. Everyone in the bullpen watched him jog out of the area as if he was on fire.

Kyle just stood there clutching the phone with pride until he realized with a sick feeling that he'd just helped out Ross. Publicly. This day was not going the way he'd envisioned.


	10. Chapter 10

Mike had escaped Kyle and Donna by retreating hastily to the bathroom.

He hadn't meant to hug Kyle at all. He had just been so happy to have discovered he had a last name.

Michael Ross. Mike Ross. Ross. Mike. Mike Ross.

"My name is Michael Ross!" he shouted suddenly at the mirror in the bathroom, arms spread wide in a victory pose.

"That's great," a voice said from behind his left.

Mike glanced over to the reflection of the speaker, his face heating up in embarrassment. "I was just," he tried.

The man, who looked unlike a lawyer in his short-sleeved button-up shirt with pens in the pocket, just glared at him.

"I thought you preferred 'Mike'."

Mike turned around to stare at this man whom he didn't recognize. The familiar pain returned to the back of his skull, and he searched for a name.

"Ben?"

"No, genius, Clark Kent."

Mike frowned. Why did people keep making fun of him? "Superman reference. Real creative," he said.

"I was looking for you. Your computer needs sweeping. I thought I told you not to go looking at porn." Ben looked really angry, as though Mike's computer catching a virus was a personal affront directed solely at him.

"I didn't. I wasn't. I—"

"Yeah, whatever. What's your password, so I don't have to hack into it?"

Mike froze. He had no clue what his password was. He tried to remember and suddenly he found himself clutching at the sinks behind him, one hand held to his head.

"Don't hurt yourself," came Ben's dry voice.

"I don't remember it," Mike replied sadly.

Ben gave him a look.

Mike smiled apologetically at him. "Sorry?"

"Whatever. It's not like you actually put up any effective firewalls, anyway." Ben started to walk away, presumably headed for Mike's computer.

"Thanks, Ben!" Mike called after him.

"You're welcome, _Michael_ ," he called back in a suspiciously sarcastic tone.

Mike turned back to the sinks and splashed his face with cold water. He really needed to figure out what had happened to his memory. He didn't want to not remember things! He needed to find Harvey so they could figure this out.

He stepped out of the bathrooms and ran right into a very pretty woman who was carrying file folders, which ended up spilling across the floor. This seemed familiar, and the spike of pain at the back of his skull prompted him to hastily pick up the folders so she wouldn't notice.

"Sorry!" he said, and gently handed the folders to her with a smile…and proceeded to walk away.

"Mike, wait!" the woman said.

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. He really wanted to find Harvey. His head was hurting him and he wanted to lie down.

When he finally faced her she stepped closer to him, a small frown on her face.

"Can I help you?" he asked kindly.

She gave him a scrutinizing look. "Are you avoiding me?"

He tried to cover his surprise. Apparently this was someone else he knew. "No! Of course not! I've just been really busy doing work for Harvey."

"Yeah," she shook her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "Right, of course."

"See you later!" Mike started to turn away but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Hey, have you seen Kyle lately?"

Mike smiled. This he could talk about. "Yeah. He's been really nice today. He gave me a muffin!"

"Really?" she asked, the shock evident in her voice. "Has he been…I don't know, doing you any special favors lately?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. He turned in the Brezhinsky files to Louis for me. I couldn't find them, but he took care of it. Why?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "So he didn't ask you if you wanted to go on a double date?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. Wait, he turned in your files for you?" She looked suspicious, but she was smiling at him like they were exchanging secrets, so he felt like he could trust her. Or maybe it was that something in his chest tugged inside when she looked at him like that. He couldn't help the goofy grin that appeared on his face.

"Yeah. I forgot where they were, and Louis said he wanted them and I was freaking out, but Kyle said he turned them in for me."

She frowned at him and he had a sinking feeling.

"You forgot?"

He swallowed loudly. He began looking in his periphery for an exit—anything that could get him away. Why did he keep setting himself up for this question?

"I—uh, I—" He swiveled his head to the side as he saw Harvey heading towards him carrying a really big box that Mike recognized. Harvey had gone to the file room without him and brought back evidence. He was trying to help Mike!

But right now, Mike needed help to escape from this woman. "Harvey!" he called out. The man headed quickly for them and Mike felt relief flood his chest.

"Rachel," Harvey said to the woman. "So sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I need my associate."

Rachel started to apologize to him but Mike interrupted her with, "I thought you were the great Harvey Specter, and you didn't _need_ anything."

They both looked at him, Harvey with what looked strangely like concern, and Rachel with shock and confusion, and maybe a small sympathetic-looking smile. Mike was feeling confused, though, and his headache had returned full throttle. He needed to sit down.

Harvey seemed to sense this and shoved the box at Mike, the ensuing cloud of dust making both men sneeze.

"Let's go, hot shot," Harvey said snidely.

Rachel gripped his arm once more as she muttered a quick, "We'll talk about this later."

Mike had never been so happy to be walking away from a beautiful woman. At least as far as he remembered.

"Where's my coffee?" Donna asked when they closed in on Harvey's office.

Mike's stomach dropped. "I'm sorry. I forgot it."

She gave him an icy look. "You seem to be doing that a lot lately."

"You were supposed to be watching him, not letting him run gallivanting off to flirt with pretty paralegals," Harvey said, only slightly angry, to Donna.

"She _is_ pretty, isn't she?" Mike said from behind the box.

"I didn't _let_ him do anything. He ran off after hugging Kyle. I only wish I'd gotten a picture." Donna sounded extremely disappointed.

Harvey's face turned slightly reddish as he made a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Yet again, Mike had no idea why Harvey would be laughing at him, but he suddenly realized that the dusty box was extremely irritating to hold when he was trying to rub his head.

Harvey seemed to notice this and steered him into his office, whipping the box out of his hands and setting it down on Donna's desk wall. Mike heard him ask her to find out what had been in the box before he glided into his office, sitting the both of them down onto his couch.

Mike placed his head in his hands and attempted to lie down on his side of Harvey's couch, nestling into its plush corner.

The room was spinning, and he kept thinking of things that seemed familiar, hearing voices that sounded like they belonged to people he knew. The bright light from outside that streamed into Harvey's office reminded him of the lights of the file room. That memory hurt, which was silly, really, because he had started out in the file room, so it shouldn't cause him any pain.

A shadow blocking the streaming sunlight and a hand on his shoulder made him realize that he had closed his eyes. When he opened them he thought he may have actually fallen asleep and was currently dreaming.

Harvey was standing over him with pure concern etched on his frowning face as he studied Mike.

 _Yep. Definitely a dream_ , he thought.


	11. Chapter 11

Harvey had come out of the elevators carrying the dusty box from the file room. He was planning on asking Donna to research what had been in the box. If anyone could find such an obscure list, it was his secretary. He sometimes allowed himself to entertain the idea that she was some sort of deity amusing herself on Earth by watching the greatness that was Harvey Specter.

He briefly wondered, as he always he did, if that theory was a bit too self-indulgent or perhaps egotistical, but then rationalized that he really _was_ just that awesome.

Which is exactly why Harvey was unhappy to find himself holding a dusty, yellowed, filing box in an attempt to help someone who wasn't himself, Jessica, or a client.

He reminded himself again that, as a reflection of his own self, Mike's fragile mind definitely needed to be fixed so that Harvey's reputation wouldn't be tarnished.

With all these inner debates going on, Harvey barely registered that he'd walked nearly the whole way to his office already.

He looked over the top of the large box to see Mike talking with Rachel, looking in somewhat of a panic. This bothered him greatly. Not because Mike was panicked—that seemed to be an hourly occurrence—but because Mike was supposed to be sitting patiently in Harvey's office, under Donna's close scrutiny, and _not_ out where anything bad could happen to or because of him.

"Harvey!" Mike called to him. Harvey growled at himself when he found his feet immediately marching over to Mike. His body just wasn't listening to him today. He had meant to call Mike over and tell him to follow, but instead he was walking over to the two of them like he was Mike's associate!

Harvey glanced at Rachel, who was quickly trying to cover her somewhat mischievous expression. "Rachel," he said, hoping to distract her from whatever she'd been saying to cause Mike's hand to start rubbing at his head again. "So sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I need my associate."

Rachel looked like she was about to protest but Mike beat her to it with a traditional Mike-esque response: "I thought you were the great Harvey Specter, and you didn't _need_ anything." Harvey would have been angry, but he was too busy watching Mike's face openly portray the pain and confusion he was experiencing. He looked like he was going to pass out, and Harvey realized that would be even worse than Rachel finding out he didn't remember anything.

Harvey decided a hasty retreat was needed, so he rudely shoved the hated box at Mike and said, "Let's go, hotshot," in a tone that brooked no argument. Hopefully Rachel interpreted that as Harvey being mad at Mike, and they could make a quick escape. Unfortunately for Harvey's self-image, his plan was only slightly ruined by the cloud of dust that billowed up like a miniature mushroom cloud from the box. Harvey and Mike both sneezed.

He turned swiftly, knowing Mike would follow him, amnesia or no. The kid was amazingly still loyal to Harvey even without his memories. If Harvey allowed himself to feel, he would be proud to have Mike as his associate. But Mike could only stay his associate if he had his memories. Harvey walked a little faster.

When he approached Donna's desk, she gave Mike an expectant look. "Where's my coffee?"

Mike looked even worse than he already did after Donna's question. Harvey knew her well enough to know that she wasn't being serious, but Mike—especially this Mike—didn't know that.

"I'm sorry. I forgot it." Harvey noted that he looked like somebody had told him he was about to be eaten alive by a large python.

Donna looked at him in pretend irritation. "You seem to be doing that a lot lately."

Normally, Harvey would find her deadpanned quips entertaining, but he was still angry at her for not keeping her promise. So before Mike could respond, he cut in with, "You were supposed to be watching him, not letting him run gallivanting off to flirt with pretty paralegals."

She gave him a weighing look. "I didn't _let_ him do anything. He ran off after hugging Kyle. I only wish I'd gotten a picture." He heard Mike say something behind the box about Rachel being pretty, but Harvey was too busy trying not to laugh at what was the second image in his head of Mike hugging Kyle. He coughed and gave Donna a pointed look.

Then he noticed that Mike was juggling the box between his hands in what appeared as an attempt to scratch his head. And he still looked just short of faint.

Harvey opened the door to his office, stole the box from Mike's arms, and gave his associate a shove in one swift motion.

"Donna," he said quietly, placing the dusty box on her desk as she glared at the scuff marks it would leave. "I need you to find out what files were supposed to be in this."

"Is it about Mike?" she said, her tone becoming truly serious for perhaps the first time that day.

Harvey just nodded.

"Sure thing, boss," she said and Harvey all but jogged into his office.

Mike was simply standing there with his eyes shut in pain, so Harvey steered him once again to his couch. His associate immediately set his head in his hands and fell onto the arm, shrinking inward.

Harvey grimaced at what he knew he had to do. Pain had meant that Mike was remembering, or about to remember, and Harvey needed Mike— _his_ Mike—more than anything right now, however loathe he was to admit it.

Harvey stood from his place on his couch and put a hesitant hand on Mike's shoulder. The eyes that blinked up at him were red from pain and maybe fear, and for once, Harvey just let his emotions show, trying to comfort his associate.

"Mike."

"You can't be real." Mike's response seemed awed, but he never took his eyes off Harvey's.

"I need you to remember," Harvey said slowly, forcing his voice to be steady and calm.

Mike shook his head vigorously, scrunching his eyes and withdrawing into a curled ball in the corner of the couch.

"It hurts!" he whined.

Harvey took a deep breath. He didn't want to be the one who had to do this, but he didn't trust anyone else with his associate right now. He could remember all sorts of things that were best left unsaid to unsuspecting ears.

"I know it hurts, Mike. But I need you to tell me what happened in the file room."

Mike's pained expression turned to anger in a flash, and he snapped at Harvey with a hissed, "I don't remember!"

Harvey was amazingly starting to feel guilty. He didn't like to feel guilty. Angry, betrayed, he could take, because Louis was usually the cause of those emotions when Mike was involved, and all he had to do was chew out Louis or steal clients from him. But here, standing in this room, being the bad guy to his own—and for once, undeserving—associate, Harvey wanted to punch himself, if it would take some of the guilt away.

He took another deep, steadying breath. "Try and work backwards. Tell me what you _do_ remember in the file room. Take your time."

Mike fidgeted, still angry, but he opened his eyes again and stared straight at Harvey, like he was afraid he'd disappear if he stopped looking.

"I—there were files everywhere. I was leaning against the shelf. Then…then…"

He picked himself up from the couch and stood, his eyes finally ripping themselves from Harvey's gaze as he stared unfocused at the view from Harvey's office. Harvey kept a steadying hand on his shoulder, though, afraid Mike might collapse any minute.

"Mike?" he tried.

"I was trying to get the box down, when…"

Harvey tried not to sigh too loudly. This is where they were before he'd been interrupted by Jessica.

"When?" he prompted patiently.

"Harvey?" Mike was now looking at him, blinking with raised eyebrows at the hand Harvey had on him. Harvey realized he was probably gripping it just a bit too tightly, so he loosened his fingers, but didn't remove the hand.

"Why are we—what's going on?" Mike started to look around like he had no clue what had happened.

"Mike?" Harvey finally asked.

"Am I being fired or something? Or am I dead? Because I don't think the _real_ Harvey would look like that." Mike's suspicious gaze loosened the knots in Harvey's shoulders, which he hadn't realized he had before then. Harvey couldn't help the small relieved laugh that forced itself from his throat.

"Oh, thank God," Harvey managed. Mike looked around suspiciously.

"Okay, what's so funny? Is it my tie?" He tugged on the fabric, which Harvey finally noticed wasn't as skinny as his usual ones. Harvey started to chuckle. "C'mon Harvey, Rene gave me this one. It can't possibly be too skinny."

Harvey couldn't help the laughter. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought hysterically. He couldn't stop!

"Ooookay. Well, I'll just go, and—yeah," And Mike started to walk away.

Harvey gripped his shoulder tighter, tugging Mike back until he fell on Harvey's couch.

"Oh, God. I am being fired," he said as he sank into the couch that moments ago he'd been trying to curl into.

"You're not being fired," Harvey finally managed to get out.

"Sooo…" Mike asked.

"The files," Harvey tried, hoping silently that it wouldn't cause Mike to relapse.

Mike shrugged like he had no idea what Harvey was talking about.

"Adrian Walker's files?" Harvey asked him.

Mike winced, and Harvey subconsciously leaned forward. "Okay, ouch."

"Do you remember getting them?"

Mike nodded, one hand pressed to his head, the other nervously drumming on the leather upholstery. "Yeah, I'm never going down there again, by the way. I think Louis's mother really does live down there! And I had to—hey! Someone hit me!"

Harvey smiled. They were finally getting some answers, and Mike seemed to have reverted or remembered. He didn't really care about the terminology, so long as his associate was back to being useful.

Mike, however, seemed to take Harvey's smile for something else, because he glared at him. "Glad to see you're happy that I was assaulted."

"Assaulted?" Harvey asked.

"Well, hit—you know what I meant!"

"You're right, I am happy. Now tell me who hit you," Harvey said smugly.

But Mike was frowning at him now. "I don't remember." And Harvey's shoulders tensed again. He was really starting to hate that phrase coming from his associate's mouth.

"Harvey, why don't I remember?" Mike was rubbing that spot on the back of his head again, and Harvey had a sinking feeling.

"Calm down, Mike," Harvey placated.

"Harvey? There was something I had to tell you! I remember now! Not what I had to tell you, but that I had to tell you something!" He winced, shutting his eyes in even more of a pained look than all those that had come before. "My phone!"

"Your phone? What about your phone? Mike?" Harvey found himself kneeling before Mike. _When had that happened?_

"My phone? Oh yeah, I can't find that either," Mike said, and Harvey knew he was gone again. "But Kyle found my wallet for me! He's a really nice guy, you know?"

Harvey lurched to his feet. He was angry, and he didn't care if this version of Mike knew it or not. "Just get out. Go to your desk and don't get into anymore trouble. I can't look at you right now."

Mike frowned. "I'm sorry, I want to help! I just don't—remember!" He was standing now, shouting at Harvey, and Harvey just couldn't take it.

"Out!"

Mike swallowed loudly and looked like someone had just told him his grandmother had died, but he trudged out of Harvey's office, and Harvey sat down on his couch heavily, head in hands. He'd been so close.


	12. Chapter 12

When Mike made it to his desk, he found Ben sitting in his chair, clicking madly away at something.

Mike sank down on the floor right next to his desk, and Ben turned the chair so he was facing him.

"I'm a failure," Mike muttered dejectedly.

"You really are," Ben said, and Mike just gave him the saddest look he could pull off. What was worse was that he didn't have to fake it. "I mean, c'mon man, 123Ross? That's even worse than your last password!"

Mike just stared up at him in defeat. He hadn't any clue what his last password had been, but he did have to admit this one sounded pretty idiotic. He decided to respond to Ben's hurtful words by sinking even lower, and wrapping his arms around his drawn-up knees.

"You of all people should have a secure password. I mean you can remember any long sequence of randomized numbers and letters. You probably know all the known digits of pi." Ben sounded disappointed, but the cruel tone of his voice was gone, as if he'd noticed Mike's mood and was trying to lighten it.

Mike nodded absently. "3.141592653589793—"

Ben kicked a foot out at him. "Okay, we get it. I do want to go home sometime today."

Mike rubbed the spot where he'd been kicked. "My day has sucked," he began.

"No, I really do want to go home sometime today," Ben interrupted. Mike just looked at him. "You're blocking the exit."

"You're a jerk," Mike sighed.

"And you're an idiot," Ben said.

Mike stood up and looked mournfully at his empty desk. "Thanks for fixing my computer, Benjamin."

Ben paused before leaving, studying Mike carefully. "You're welcome, Mike." And then he left.

Mike plopped down in his chair with a huff, and let his head bang his desk with a loud _thunk_.

"Somebody please kill me," he muttered darkly, replaying in a perpetual loop within his head the scene in Harvey's office with menacing perfection.

...

Harvey was still sitting on his couch by the time Donna had returned. He hadn't even noticed her come into his office, but he could tell just with a glance that she was not happy.

Donna was glaring at him, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a pen so hard the ink was likely to shoot out any second.

Harvey avoided her gaze.

"Where's Mike?" she asked coldly. Harvey shivered in his bones.

"I sent him out," was all he said.

"Out?"

"Out," Harvey aped. He wasn't liking this conversation already.

He wasn't looking, but he could hear Donna's pen tapping violently against her thigh. He didn't elaborate though, and simply let the silence stretch on.

Donna let out a huff of air. "Found those missing files you were looking for." She slapped a note in front of him on the coffee table before gliding out of the room.

Harvey waited a few more minutes until he heard his door click shut, then stood and walked over to his scotch. He'd already had a drink today, but it obviously hadn't been enough.

After taking his time to finish his scotch and cool down, Harvey finally picked up the note on the table. With a deep breath he read Donna's handwriting.

"Donna! Get me Adrian Walker on the phone!"

...

Rachel was not in the best of moods. She had managed to talk to Mike, but he had acted strange, almost eager to escape with Harvey. She tried to not take it personally. Maybe he was just busy?

It didn't matter, because Rachel had bigger problems to deal with at the moment. Her case load was getting increasingly larger, and she hadn't managed to figure out what was going on with Kyle yet.

Frowning, she set aside her large research tome, and began dialing Donna's number.

"Harvey Specter's office," she answered coolly. Rachel couldn't help but notice the cold tone of her voice when she'd said Harvey's name.

"Donna? It's Rachel." She let her voice drop to a raised whisper.

There was a slight pause. "What do you need?"

"Is something going on with Mike?" she asked. She hadn't meant to ask it, but her concern for her favorite associate outweighed her curiosity for her least favorite one.

"When is something _not_ going on with Mike?" Donna deflected. Rachel immediately knew that Donna wouldn't tell her, no matter what. She frowned and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest at the thought of it.

"Well, have you noticed anything…strange…going on with Kyle, then?"

There was another pause, only this time, Rachel was pretty sure Donna was smiling. "Why, now that you mention it," the secretary began.

"I knew it!" she said satisfied. "He came in here asking me all sorts of weird questions about Mike."

"Like what?" Donna sounded excited.

"Well, he asked me if we were going out. Then he asked me if Mike ever talks about him." She could hear Donna's signature laugh on the other end. "And get this: he suggested we go out on another double date."

"No! He didn't!" Rachel smiled at Donna's disbelief.

"I'm not sure what's going on exactly, but do you think, maybe, Kyle…likes Mike?"

"Well, it would make sense. He did come looking for Mike earlier."

Rachel felt vindicated. "He did? Why?"

"I'm not sure, but the conversation did include him returning Mike's missing wallet."

"What? He did something nice…for Mike? I wish I'd seen it," Rachel admitted.

"Oh honey, that's not all you missed."

Rachel couldn't bear the thought. "Tell me," she pleaded.

"I can't," the redhead said, sounding suspiciously upset once again.

Rachel frowned in irritation. "Please?"

Donna sighed on the other end. "Okay, but you can't go talking about it, okay? Only Harvey and Norma know."

"I promise," Rachel swore solemnly.

"Mike hugged Kyle."

Rachel was speechless as she tried to imagine the scene. It was frightening.

"Kyle didn't seem like he hated it either." Rachel could tell that Donna was in full gossip mode, now. "And Norma tells me that he was acting strangely earlier, too. Did you know he gave Mike a muffin?"

 _So_ that's _why Norma had been giving me those odd looks in the break room!_ Rachel thought. A menacing laugh erupted from her throat, and she leaned back in her chair as she composed a hypothesis in her head. The list of Kyle's deeds were all adding up to one startling conclusion.


	13. Chapter 13

Harvey was glaring out his door at his secretary as he listened to Stevie Ray Vaughan play softly in the background.

If Donna hadn't done as much for him as she had, he'd consider firing her, or at least cutting her salary. She had refused to do the basics of her job after she slammed the note on his coffee table, and was now chatting amiably away on the phone.

Harvey had had to call Adrian himself and the man was never pleasant to get a hold of. It seemed only Donna could magically get past the man's evil secretary and personal assistant, and actually reach the CEO himself within reasonable time. Reasonable time, for Harvey, was two seconds. For reality, it seemed to take fifteen minutes. And Harvey did not like to be kept waiting.

After his talk with Adrian, Harvey had come to the conclusion that the missing files were completely irrelevant. They were from a case that had been closed by a senior partner over twelve years ago, and were really only there because no one had bothered to clear out the basement file room.

Harvey did, however, learn that Adrian was having a little problem with someone trying to steal his confidential financial records in order to blackmail him, or remove him from his position as CEO. Harvey had no qualms about this. The man was about as smart as a jellyfish, which is to say, completely without a brain.

But when Pearson Hardman was attacked by this thief, it became personal. Not because Harvey was concerned about the firm's honor or anything. He obviously cared a little, being senior partner and all, but the thing that really angered him was that they'd attacked his associate, and by proxy, Harvey.

All he could be thankful for is that when Mike had fallen he must have taken the file box with him, scattering the contents and making it impossible for anyone to quickly steal Adrian's files. Harvey knew this was the case, since those very files were currently sitting on his desk. And while the papers were out of order, they were all there.

He was now attempting to figure out a way to remedy the entire situation. They needed to find who had hit Mike, and Harvey was definitely going to have a talk with security.

He deliberated for a moment about whether or not he wanted to risk Donna's wrath and ask her to call security, or try finding the number himself. If it meant he was helping Mike, maybe he could convince her to be nice. Or at least be helpful.

Harvey hesitantly pushed the intercom button. "Donna?"

"No." She hadn't even looked up at him.

Harvey grimaced. "I'll give you that raise," he tried.

"I don't want your money," she said coldly.

He sighed heavily, gritting his teeth together, jaw muscles cramping. "It's about Mike," he relented.

Donna made a scoffing noise. "I'm sorry, who?" Harvey just waited patiently for her to continue. He knew at this point that anything else he said would only put him in deeper.

But she always had been better at outmatching Harvey's patience. "I was out of line," he admitted wearily. "I'm trying to fix it."

She turned to look at him, fixing him with a look that wasn't as severe as a glare, but Harvey could tell she was still mad. "What do you need?"

He took another deep breath, an action that he found himself having to do a lot today, and said, "I need you to get me the number for security."

She cut the line then and Harvey hoped she was calling for him. While he waited he tried to soothe his anger at everything by listening to the soulful sounds of "Texas Flood" playing in the background. There was something else that Mike had said that he needed to focus on, he remembered.

"Frank will be up in ten," Donna's voice sounded on the intercom.

"Frank?"

"Head of security for our building," she explained. Harvey nodded, as much of a thank you as he could manage at this moment.

 _What had Mike said just before he reverted?_ Harvey tried to recall. He replayed the scene in his mind, but every time he came close to the answer, all that he could think of was Mike's lost look as Harvey told him to get out.

"Harvey, Charlie Drover is on the phone for you," Donna said, and it hit Harvey all of a sudden.

"His phone!" he shouted back.

"Excuse me?" she said.

Harvey ignored her as he picked up the receiver and switched the line to Charlie.

"Harvey, I really need to speak with you about this stock option package they're offering me," Charlie's whining voice said immediately.

Harvey sighed, but couldn't bring himself to be as annoyed as he wanted to be. "Charlie, we discussed this at length this morning. You're taking the deal. The stocks are good. We've already run the numbers a dozen times. Now, I'm going to hang up the phone, and this is the last I want to be hearing about any of this until Monday when you will physically sign the papers, all right?"

"Harvey, don't hang up! I really think we could—"

Harvey slammed the phone down and stood up, suddenly invigorated. He needed Mike's phone, right? So all he needed to do was call it.

He pulled out his cell and hit Mike's speed dial.

It rang, and rang, and rang. That was a good sign that Mike's phone was still on, somewhere.

There was a noise, and Harvey held his breath, hoping for someone to pick up.

"This is Mike, leave a message."

 _Damn_ , Harvey thought.

Harvey paced around his office, thinking of all the places the thief may have gone to. If they didn't get what they had wanted, then there was a chance that they hadn't yet left.

Harvey opened the door to his office, stepping up to Donna's desk. "Hey, where's that box of files I gave you?"

Donna gave him a smirk that was almost as friendly as her usual ones. _She's still mad_ , he reminded himself. "You mean the box that I left out on some random desk somewhere and is now missing?"

Harvey just gave her a look of disbelief.

"Or did you mean _this_ box that I've been keeping under my desk so no one could try to steal it again?" Harvey's smile was, as usual, brilliant, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back for having such a great secretary.

"I'll deal with Frank. He doesn't like you, anyway," she offered. "Go find him."

Harvey just smiled at her, not moving from where he was leaning smugly on her desk.

"What?" she asked.

He gave the tiniest shake of his head. "Nothing," he said.

He caught her smile as he set off down the hall, his usual confident swagger back as he headed for the bullpen.

...

Mike was sitting at his desk when Harvey found him.

The kid looked like he'd completely deflated, his shoulders slumped, his forehead pressed against his desk in a clear sign of defeat and depression. Harvey winced, despite his new-found giddiness; now he'd have to take the time to cheer up Mike just so he wouldn't have to listen to the kid's self-pitying whining. Harvey's life was so hard.

"Mike, let's go," he said, forcing his voice to sound more upbeat. After all, if his associate looked this humiliated in public, people might think he had lost a big case—and that would reflect poorly on Harvey, which was simply unacceptable.

But Mike didn't even lift his head. He just shrugged his shoulders, arms dangling uselessly off the side of his desk.

Harvey frowned. This was going to require more effort than he'd initially thought.

"Do you want to fix this or not?" he said, voice whispering just a bit as he leaned down over Mike's cubicle wall.

"What's the point?" came a pathetic voice from below Harvey.

He couldn't believe this! Here he was, actually genuinely trying to help his associate for wholly unselfish—well, okay, mostly unselfish—reasons, and the ungrateful idiot was playing the "poor me" game!

"If you actually are giving up, then consider yourself actually fired," Harvey said with a scowl.

Mike's head seemed to sink even further into the solid panel of plastic simulated wood. "Fine. I'm useless anyway," he muttered almost too softly for Harvey to hear.

Harvey gritted his teeth. This is _exactly_ what he'd been so reluctant to do—sympathy. "You're not useless," he managed, and immediately mentally applauded himself for being so flexible.

"Really?"

Harvey resisted the urge to sigh or bash Mike's stapler into his forehead. "Really."

"Then, you're _not_ mad at me?" It was odd hearing that pleading voice coming from Mike. It sounded so lost and pathetic, and so unlike Mike that Harvey instantly wanted to never hear it ever again. It had been fun at first toying with this different person, but now he just wanted snarky, petulant, obnoxious, overly-caring yet asshole of an associate Mike Ross back. Harvey kind of missed him, actually. He was suddenly glad Donna wasn't here to give him one of her knowing looks.

"I'm not mad," Harvey promised.

Mike's head finally lifted itself, albeit slowly, from the desk, and Harvey couldn't help but smile at the red mark on the kid's forehead.

"So, what do we do?" his associate asked.

"We go to the mattresses," Harvey said with a smirk.

" _The Godfather_. Nice," Mike shot back with a smile—which then turned into an odd little frown.

"What?" Harvey asked.

"I remembered that," Mike said. "And it didn't hurt!"

Harvey smiled at Mike's progress as he stalked off, knowing Mike was hurrying behind him. Hopefully everything would be back to normal in time for dinner.


	14. Chapter 14

Kyle had been perfecting his stealth mode during the quiet conversation between Harvey and Ross. Which is to say that he'd been hiding pathetically behind his cubicle wall, for the third time that day, while he spied on the two attorneys.

Kyle did have to admit that he probably looked ridiculous, but after the public show of defending Mike Ross in front of the entire associates' area, he was hardly concerned at what his latest actions would generate in the rumor mill.

Plus, Kyle was usually the one in charge of the rumor mill.

He hadn't been able to catch most of the conversation, but the two had walked off after something about going to the mattresses, which Kyle knew was from _The Godfather._ The dynamic duo must have gotten a lead in one of their cases again, and Kyle felt a pang of jealous anger that Ross got all the glory. Then he reminded himself that Ross was really actually unhappy since he had a debilitating crush on Kyle. This cheered him up some. Until he re-remembered that Ross still got all the glory. Stupid Mike Ross!

He plucked his newly acquired phone—courtesy of Mike Ross, and the creepy fake cop guy-out of his desk drawer, and stared at it for awhile trying to figure out what he should do with it.

 _First things first_ , he thought, and then proceeded to copy Rachel's number into his own phone.

With that out of the way, he could set about trying to do something maniacal with it. Maybe he could text Jenny with insults and get her to—what? Be mad at Mike? The man obviously knew her number by heart, so he could probably get away with saying he'd just lost his phone, and she'd probably believe him. Everyone always seemed to give Ross the benefit of the doubt. It really wasn't fair.

Kyle quickly ran through the list of possibilities and decided that none of them felt right. He'd just have to hang on to the phone until his instinct told him it was the right time to use it.

With a sigh, he set about doing actual work. Or pretending to, anyway. Louis was still ignoring him for some reason, so Kyle had taken to perfecting little doodles he'd drawn in the margins of one of his contract drafts. He was starting to really show a streak of artistic ability.

...

Harvey was now confident that Mike would be back to working condition by the end of the day. Of course, Harvey hadn't been able to get much work done at all after his meeting with Adrian, and since all of Mike's work had been suspended, he suspected the work for tomorrow would demand a late night. Or at least a late night for his associate. Harvey really needed to fix this whole thing before he was forced to do actual work. He walked slightly faster towards his destination.

"Where exactly are we going?" Mike asked from behind him as he struggled to keep up with Harvey's new pace.

Harvey ignored him; there were too many people within earshot. And any one of them could be Mike's attacker. Great. Now he was getting paranoid.

He stopped abruptly, Mike slamming into him in what resembled a scene from an old cartoon, as Harvey spotted someone he really couldn't deal with right then.

Louis was headed straight for them, and while he hadn't seemed to have spotted them yet, Harvey was certain that the other lawyer would make a beeline for them if given the chance.

He glanced to his left and made out an empty conference room. Pulling Mike in behind him, he shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible and pressed his back against the wall, hoping Louis would pass right by.

"Are you serious?"

Harvey ignored the familiarly sarcastic tone from his companion as he spied out the glass walls for any sign of impending doom.

"You're hiding from Louis? Really?"

Harvey turned to stare at Mike with a hurt look. "I'm hiding _you_ from Louis."

Mike blinked back at him. "Gee Harvey, that almost sounds like something someone who _cares_ would do."

"Do you want my help or not?"

"I do, I just thought it would be more…I don't know, manly?"

Harvey glared at him. "I'm manly," he insisted.

Mike snorted softly. "Yeah, in a Gilligan way."

"Hey, he was in the Navy. And he took care of everyone."

"If you can successfully argue _that_ case, then I went to Harvard and Louis is a chick magnet."

Harvey smiled to himself as he breathed in the banter. It was nice to have this back. No! Harvey Specter did _not_ get sentimental, especially over ridiculous arguments with annoying associates!

"Louis is gone, by the way," Mike said offhandedly.

Harvey turned to look cautiously once more out the glass to find his associate was correct. The man really was gone.

"All right, let's go," Harvey said, regaining his composure and regally leading the way back down the hall.

"Aye, aye, sailor," Mike muttered behind him. Harvey didn't have to see it to know that Mike was sporting a thousand watt smile. At least someone was happy about Mike's personality returning. Harvey could really use an aspirin.

They slipped quietly into the elevators, riding silently down to the basement. Amazingly enough, the journey to Litt Lair—Harvey mentally corrected himself—the file room, was traveled in silence.

This wasn't the easy silence Harvey had become accustomed to with Mike. He glanced back at his associate to find him watching his feet, face frozen in an uneasy frown.

"You okay?" Harvey asked, forcing kindness into his voice.

Mike didn't seem to hear him, so Harvey stopped and watched as Mike walked past him and placed his hand on the door knob. Harvey slowly approached Mike, wondering if he was going to actually open the door or just stand in front of it.

"I think…"

Harvey just couldn't help himself. "That's a new development."

Mike glared at him, and Harvey smirked back, hoping his relief didn't show on his face.

"The door was open before," Mike said slowly.

Harvey frowned. Why was Mike bothering to tell him this? He was happy that his associate seemed to be regaining his mind, but he could care less about the useless details.

"It bothered me before, but I just…It didn't seem important."

"It still isn't," Harvey said. He gestured to the doorknob. "You going to open that anytime today?"

Mike gave a start. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." He opened the door and took a few quick steps into the room, slowing almost subconsciously as he neared the aisle where he'd been attacked.

Harvey followed behind at a slower, even pace. When Mike didn't say anything, he asked, "Anything?"

"…"

"Mike!" Harvey said, with a little more force than he'd intended. He was tired of going through this "episode" thing.

"He was in a uniform," Mike whispered. His hand went to the back of his head, and Harvey got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"A uniform? What kind of uniform?" He asked, trying to use his most patient, court voice.

Mike shook his head, eyes closing in what seemed like pain.

"C'mon, kid, you can do it," Harvey said softly, gently.

"I can't. It hurts!" Mike was whining again, and Harvey's anger rose. But he recalled earlier when he'd lost his cool and yelled at Mike, and how defeated the kid had looked. And how mad Donna had gotten.

He took a steadying breath. "You can, Mike. If anyone can remember, it's you."

Mike's eyes opened and he stared unblinking into Harvey's. They stayed like that for what seemed like minutes, until Mike simply nodded. He leaned into one of the shelves and stared down at the space where he'd probably been lying after the attack. His eyes scrunched in pain again, but he didn't whine or whimper, and he didn't close his eyes, just kept staring.

Harvey just waited. He knew Mike well enough to know that when the kid got that look on his face, he wasn't going to give up for anything. Not the Mike he knew.

"Police," Mike said finally, sounding slightly out of breath.

"You want to call the cops?" Harvey frowned. They might dig too deep trying to get Mike's memories back, and then their secret would be out. Ugh, he _was_ getting paranoid!

But Mike shook his head. "No. His uniform."

 _Oh_ , thought Harvey. "So, we know it's a man, and that he was wearing a police uniform."

"Wrong."

"Mike, you just said—"

"His uniform, I mean. It was wrong."

Harvey stared at his associate, trying to picture the event: a police officer hitting Mike on the head.

"How was it wrong?" Harvey dared to ask. He probably didn't want to hear the details, but they might help Mike to remember.

"His radio was fake, among other things," Mike said. "Gun was real though."

Harvey frowned. How did a man with a fake police uniform and a real gun with no appointments get through security? Then it clicked.

"What?" Mike asked.

Harvey gave him a puzzled look.

"You have that face you get when you've just figured something out but are waiting for the best time to gloat about it."

"…What?"

Mike at least had the decency to look ashamed. "I…remembered a few more things."

"I don't want to know," Harvey said with the most serious expression he could muster. "I was thinking," he paused for dramatic effect, "that if this thief managed to get past security, he must have had an appointment _or_ he broke in. And if—"

"If he'd broken in, there'd be no reason for him to be wearing a fake uniform, right," Mike finished.

"Do we need to—"

"Have that conversation about me interrupting you again? Nope. Shutting up," he said with noticeable restraint. Harvey suspected he was hiding a smirk.

"Let's go talk to Frank, then," he said, leading them out of the filing room.

"Head of security, right," Mike said behind him.

Harvey blinked in disbelief. "You know the name of our security guy?"

"Yeah, Frank's a good guy. He let's me use the senior partner's break room when I'm pulling all-nighters."

Harvey shook his head at this breach in security. "We need to fire him."

"See, that's why he doesn't like you," Mike said.

"Remember that part about you shutting up?"


	15. Chapter 15

Mike followed Harvey back down the hallway towards Donna, where he assumed Frank would meet them.

He wasn't about to tell Harvey, but their little field trip down to the file room had really shaken him. He had been feeling confident that he knew what was going on, who everyone was, and what his relationship with Harvey was, but now he felt unsteady again. Seeing the place where he'd lost everything important to him just hours ago made him feel as if it had happened all over again. The only thing holding him together had been Harvey…

He tightened his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm to try and focus his mind on something more basic, and let his eyes simply rest on Harvey's back.

There was something hidden still that Mike felt was important and it was threatening to drown him. He didn't want to go under again, lose it all. He thought Harvey might yell at him again. And he definitely didn't want to be feeling so depressed and useless. It was pathetic, and he shuddered as he realized what his fellow associates would say to him later, if they had seen.

"Okay, what is it now?"

Mike looked up startled, to realize that he was no longer staring at Harvey's back, but his tie. And they were stopped. He took a shaky breath. "Uh, nothing. It's nothing."

Harvey looked at him like he was tired of this happening. "Mike, you need to be honest with me," he said discreetly.

Mike tightened his fist until the pain pushed the hesitant feelings away. "It's really nothing. Honest." His eyes remained steady as they focused on Harvey's, and he willed his boss to just let it go.

Amazingly enough, Harvey did. And they started once again for Donna's desk. Mike made sure not to audibly heave a sigh of relief, and instead settled for loosening his fist slightly.

"Donna, where's Frank?" Harvey said, looking around for the head of security.

She looked up from her desk, but her gaze settled on Mike, not Harvey. Mike gave a small smile to Donna, but couldn't figure out why she had that glint in her eyes. And suddenly he was remembering earlier in the day, when he had hugged Kyle right in front of her. The blush crept to his cheeks unbidden, and his headache started to return. Unwilling to show either of these feelings before Harvey, he curled both hands into fists and forced a smile onto his face.

Harvey looked back and forth between his secretary and his associate, trying to determine what was going on, but Mike wasn't going to give on this one. He could barely hear what Donna said next with the pounding in his head.

"I sent him to look for anyone suspicious. He's reviewing security tapes now. Why?"

Harvey stared at Mike for a moment before he answered somewhat angrily to Donna. Had Mike been more aware, he would have prayed for Harvey's well being; most people who spoke to Donna that way didn't last long at Pearson Hardman. "I needed to talk to him."

She smiled up at him dangerously. "And I told you, he doesn't like you."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "I don't need him to like me. What I need, is for him to find a man in a police uniform who hits clumsy associates and steals confidential records from our file rooms."

"Fine. I'll call him back. Unless you would rather talk to him," Donna said coolly. Mike shivered at her tone, or maybe because he suddenly felt colder. Was the air on in the building?

"Of course not. He doesn't like me, remember?" Harvey said lightly. "Thanks, Donna."

"That's why I'm here," she said, and Mike knew she was still angry. But somehow, Harvey was the only one who could get away with aggravating Donna. They probably had signed some sort of contract about it. He started imagining what it entailed and made himself laugh, which only increased the pounding in his head. Suddenly, everything was starting to look really bright. And there was a faint ringing in his ears.

"Mike!"

Mike's eyes snapped open, and he vaguely registered that he'd closed them. He barely recognized Harvey as his vision started spinning. Everything started to get bright, like lights on a freeway streaming together, and the ringing in his ears was really hurting. He latched onto the nearest thing he could as he realized he was about to pass out.

And there in the memories still lost to him, Mike found the one thing he'd felt was missing.

"Jenny!" he shouted as the world went white.

…

Rachel had been trying to concentrate once more on her actual work after her lengthy discussion with Donna. Her theory on Kyle's behavior was starting to look more and more accurate as the day progressed. But, unfortunately, this was a law office and _not_ a reality TV show, and she had lots of work to do.

So she went back to mindlessly researching a case for one of the junior partners that seemed to mostly be about whether the ex would get to keep the goldfish and Great Dane, or whether she would have to just settle for their $2.3 million home instead.

After a little while of this, Rachel decided she desperately needed some coffee, and maybe a snack. Normally, she would go find Mike and they'd take a walk outside or hang out together in the library or file room where he'd passed out doing work for Louis. But since that was likely not an option, she settled for the associates' break room. At least there she might catch a glimpse of her favorite colleague.

The break room was Mike-less, but mercifully bereft of Kyle as well. She didn't think she could take any more of Kyle without the potential aid of her hole punch, and as far as her theory was concerned, she didn't even know where to begin to tease him on that account. She wasn't sure she _should_ tease him.

She shook her head, trying to clear away thoughts of Kyle and Mike, and focused on pouring the correct amount of creamer into her coffee. When she was done, she moved on to the sugar and her stomach growled miserably. She hoped to God there was something healthy to eat in that refrigerator or she would have to stop by Norma's again for another muffin. The secretary's desk was situated way too close to Louis's office for anyone's liking.

"Wow, you must really like sugar." Rachel started at the voice behind her and realized suddenly that she had put about six spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee mug.

"Uh, yeah," she said, as she took a sip of her sickeningly sweet coffee. She tried not to visibly wince. "Definitely tastes better this way."

"Really?" Harold asked her with a genuine interest on his face. She wondered how he could be so dense sometimes. _Oh well_ , she thought. _At least he's not Kyle_.

She gave him a smile in response and began rummaging through the fridge for anything appetizing and unlabeled.

"Want a muffin?" Harold asked her.

She looked at him over the door of the fridge. "Um, no thanks."

Harold looked mildly frightened, and Rachel wondered exactly how she scared him. Certainly she was less threatening than Donna, but was she as threatening as Norma?

"Hey, you've been around Kyle today, right?" she ventured casually.

Harold blinked in confusion. "He's been acting really weird."

Rachel perked her head up eagerly. "Weird? How?"

Harold actually looked mildly uncomfortable, she noticed amusedly. "Well, I offered him one of Norma's muffins earlier, and he said no. But later I saw him with two of them, and he gave one to Mike."

"Really?" Rachel said, trying to sound shocked. She was really trying to figure out how best to reveal this knowledge to Donna.

"Yeah," Harold said, now more confident that Rachel was actually interested in listening to him. "And then just a minute ago, this cop tried to go through Mike's stuff, and Kyle kicked him out."

That caught Rachel's attention. "Wait, what?" A cop? _What if they found out about him cheating on those tests for people?_ she thought.

But Harold continued, thinking she was still interested in hearing about Kyle's heroics. "Yeah, he was all like, 'You can't touch his stuff!' and the cop was all like, 'I'll arrest you' and then Kyle was like, 'I'm a lawyer! So get out and leave Mike Ross alone!' It was awesome."

Harold had certainly managed to catch her attention again. Kyle actually protected Mike? What if Kyle knew? Or maybe Mike had cheated for Kyle once? Maybe that's why Kyle didn't want the cop to touch Mike's things, because then Kyle would be in trouble too. Rachel had to talk about this with someone, but realized she couldn't. Because that would betray Mike's trust. And she really didn't want to do that.

What she needed to do was to find Mike and warn him. Maybe she could ask Donna where he'd gone.

"Well, I should really get back—"

"Ms. Zane. Harold. I hope I'm not interrupting anything," said a slithery voice from the door of the break room.

Rachel turned to find Louis smiling at them, and Harold scrambled out of his seat as if he was standing at attention for an officer. Rachel wanted to roll her eyes.

"Louis," Harold managed. "I was…I-uh, I—"

"No, no, it's okay, Harold. I mean, it's a break room, right? I mean, it's not like you work in a law office or anything. You must have a lot of free time on your hands if you have the luxury to come here and gossip. You know, I know just the case for you to work on. The Lyle-Carmichael briefs. Just finished printing."

Harold's knees looked like they were about to start shaking. "Finished…printing?" he said weakly.

"I'll leave the key on your desk. If you can have those done by tomorrow at 10:00, I'd really appreciate it." Louis smiled at Rachel and stared for just a second too long. Had he heard what they'd been talking about? What if Louis knew about the cop? "Ms. Zane," he said, and walked away.

"I…I have to go," Harold said pathetically as he flew out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Harvey was not entirely sure what had just happened. He laid out the facts in his head as he tried to make sense of them.

Mike had been wobbling slightly as Harvey and Donna had talked about the security guy. And then Mike had looked extremely pale and gripped Harvey's arm in a death grip, shouting out his girlfriend's name before collapsing in a crumpled heap to the floor, taking Harvey with him.

Mike was now lying on Harvey's couch, his head on the seat, feet propped up on the arm rest, to allow the blood to flow in his brain again.

Harvey lounged by his desk and inspected his suit while Donna eyeballed Mike from Harvey's desk. There was a loose thread on his sleeve, he noticed.

"Should we call the paramedics?" Donna asked, without a hint of concern in her voice.

Harvey didn't answer but plucked at the thread on his sleeve with a sour expression.

"I think he's probably fine, right? There's no blood or anything…" Donna continued, her stare intensifying.

Harvey pulled the thread and it ripped with a snap.

"And really, we should have just taken him after the whole amnesia thing, anyways. It'd probably be more trouble than its worth."

Harvey grimaced as he noticed not one, but two new loose threads sticking up defiantly from his jacket's sleeve.

"He's actually starting to look better. I wonder if he'll wake up in a minute?"

He'd probably loosened the entire stitching on the arm by pulling that first thread.

"Harvey, I think he's coming around."

Rene was going to kill him.

"Harvey!" Donna shouted.

Harvey snapped his head up and whipped it around towards his desk, where Donna was giving him an evil glare. She nodded in the direction of Mike and Harvey turned to study his associate, destroyer of fine garments.

Mike was stirring, all right. He opened his eyes slowly, and Harvey saw that spark of recognition hit them. He only wondered which Mike this was.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" He demanded, a frown on his face.

Mike sat up with a start and swiveled in Harvey's direction. Harvey could have sworn he'd been about to raise his arms but he recovered too quickly to be sure.

"Um, I'm a terrible boyfriend?"

Harvey was now very confused, a feeling he was becoming much too familiar with today. "I meant about my jacket, Mike," he explained.

Mike stared at him and slowly, his eyes moved down to rest on Harvey's proffered wrist, where the loose fibers were chaotically plotting to unravel. "Umm, I'll buy you a new one?"

Harvey rolled his eyes. "You're damn right you will. This was my favorite suit…" Harvey muttered dejectedly. He could feel Donna shaking her head behind him.

"How are you feeling, Mike? I think that's the more appropriate question at the moment, don't you, Harvey?" Donna asked.

Mike had that lost look again, only this time Harvey couldn't tell if that was because Mike was having another "episode" or because he was being personally addressed by Donna. Abashedly, he said, "Terrible. But I'm more concerned about my girlfriend, right now."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Donna comforted.

Mike looked even worse at that, though. "No, you don't understand. I was supposed to call her everyday while she was on her trip. We had a deal. I didn't call her yesterday because I was working on the Gresham files, and today, well…I still don't know what happened to my phone. She's probably freaking out right now."

"She's fine," Harvey said, dismissing everything Mike had just said. He was getting extremely tired of the drama around here. Why couldn't things just go back to being normal?

"You know, Harvey, not everyone can be as carefree about their relationships as you," Mike shot back.

Donna nodded, crossed her arms, and glared at Harvey. He didn't see what the big deal was. Here they were, more concerned about Jenny than they were about getting Mike's memory back or acknowledging Harvey's pain. He wasn't kidding about this being his favorite suit.

"No, I mean she's fine. She was buying wine for everyone in the office," he graciously clarified.

Mike frowned at him. "How do _you_ know that?"

"Apparently you feel the need to go giving my personal _private_ phone number to complete strangers," he griped.

"Harvey," Donna warned.

Mike lifted his shoulders expectantly. "And? What did you say to her?"

Harvey shrugged back. "I don't remember." There was that evil phrase again.

Donna snorted. "Typical."

Mike gaped at him in disbelief. "You don't remember? C'mon, Harvey! That only applies to me!"

"Look, I was busy—getting the box of files that _you_ left on the floor, by the way." At Donna's foot tap, Harvey continued, rubbing his temples in a fleeting attempt to quash the oncoming headache. "I told her you were out with a client and I'd tell you to call her."

Mike cocked his head to the side. "And she didn't seem mad?"

"How would I know?"

Donna interrupted then with, "Harvey Specter. Tell me you did not hang up on her."

Harvey just stared at Mike, miserably attempting to ignore Donna's growing anger.

"And you used me as an _excuse_?" She was starting to look extremely upset. "I'm very disappointed."

"Hello? I'm still here, you know," Mike stood up suddenly and waved his arms about. Neither of them paid him any mind until he fell back into the couch, hard.

"Mike?" Donna asked.

A groan came from the associate. "Stood too fast. I'm okay."

Harvey gave a grunt of disapproval and decided he could worry about his poor abused suit later. Right now, they needed to focus. "Mike, are you having any more trouble remembering?"

"Umm, I don't think so," he said hesitantly. "Maybe? I can remember most everything now, but it kind of hurts to think too hard on anything."

"Well, you did hit your head twice today," Donna offered.

"Teevee…hacky sack…"Mike droned out. They both looked at him in concern.

"Are we sure his brain is actually _in_ there?" Donna asked.

"No, he's just like that," Harvey said.

"Never mind," Mike said with a hint of exasperation.


	17. Chapter 17

Kyle was doing his best to seem invisible for the remainder of the day. After his public defense of Mike Ross and his attempts to spy on his admirer and Harvey Specter, he decided it would probably be for the best if he just focused on his work.

But the problem was that he didn't _have_ any work. Because Mike Ross had already done it.

He almost wished that Louis had found him and given him more to do. But after seeing Harold almost suffer a nervous breakdown as he stumbled out of the copy room that housed the Lyle-Carmichael briefs, Kyle decided that he should be counting his blessings.

So that left him sitting at his desk, pretending to be hunkered down with tons of work, holding a useless phone that belonged to his nemesis, and hoping to be ignored by Louis, as he doodled mindlessly on some file folders.

Kyle sighed, examining his latest sketch. He'd drawn it without really paying attention, so it was a mildly irritating surprise to realize that he'd just drawn a stick-figure of Ross with zillions of girly hearts around him as he looked lovingly at Kyle.

He was restless, he realized. Needing another walk, Kyle decided to go visit the vending machines again. Stretching, he stood and started marching towards the break room, hoping his pace suggested he was extremely busy. All he needed was for Louis to show up unexpectedly and tell him to go take over for Harold.

The vending machines were completely deserted, since most of the associates just went for the coffee and the occasional Red Bull (all of which was Mike's, but Kyle wasn't about to stop anyone from stealing them). He eyed the machine, looking for something interesting. Warily, he skipped past the skittles. He really didn't need a repeat of the havoc they'd wreaked on his stomach earlier. Of course, that only reminded him of those muffins he'd had earlier. Which, of course, reminded him of Ross.

Kyle gave the machine an irritated shove. He never should have picked up that wallet this morning.

He put his quarters in the machine and decided just to go for the bag of probably stale pretzels, when he was distracted by a voice behind him.

"Hey, Kyle…" He was certain it was an exhausted and extremely despairing Harold. Kyle gave an annoyed groan. He really didn't need this right now.

Harold, unfortunately for Kyle, seemed to take this as an invitation to commiserate—due to an incorrect assumption that Kyle was upset about the same things as Harold was and that he was interested in complaining about them. "You too, huh?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, and fortunately for Harold, he wasn't seen, as he was still facing the vending machine, which now seemed to have eaten his money and was starting back at step one again.

"Today blows," Harold started. Kyle actually agreed with that statement. It felt like everything had started to go downhill from the moment he'd bumped into Ross this morning.

"I mean, I actually had a nice conversation with that really hot paralegal, Rachel, and then Louis came in and made me do the Lyle-Carmichael briefs. I'm not Mike; I can't do them by tomorrow! It's just not possible…"

Kyle nodded. Harold _wasn't_ Mike. He couldn't possibly do them in time. He wondered, if Louis had given those briefs to Kyle instead, would Mike have done them for him like he had with all of Kyle's other work? _Sucks for Harold_ , he gloated inwardly.

"You were awesome, by the way," Harold was saying now, catching Kyle's attention once more.

"Yeah, I am," he said, suddenly interested in the conversation. "Remind me again how awesome I was for that thing I did," he said, hoping Harold would fill in the blanks for him.

Harold stared at him in incredulity. "With the cop! It was so cool the way you were like, 'Stay away from Mike Ross!'" Harold even included some pantomimes in his retelling.

Kyle's eyebrows shot up in a surprised panic. He hadn't meant to come off as a champion of Ross. And now that Harold had told the story once, he was sure it was already floating around the office, being distorted to make it seem that he had done it intentionally with the mind to protect his nemesis.

"You know, that's really not what happened," Kyle began, in a pathetic attempt to remedy the situation.

"Don't be so modest, Kyle. You were badass. Anyway, I have lots of work to do, so, yeah," Harold said and ran off back to, presumably, the copy room.

Kyle was certainly happy that the office had finally recognized his badassery, but he was miserable that they had interpreted it as some kind of affection and respect for Ross. He could only hope that the reason he hadn't seen the man—discounting the spying, of course—all day since the "thing" (Kyle was having a hard time dealing with the feelings that had accompanied that hug) was that Louis had found him and buried him in paperwork up to his eyeballs. But, with Kyle's luck, Mike was most likely having fun being Harvey Specter's prodigy and reaping all the benefits and glory that came with it.

Kyle abandoned his quest for pretzels, and took the damn skittles instead. At least he knew what to expect with those; he'd had enough of surprises.

The skittles plunked to the bottom of the machine and he snaked his hand in to pull out the bag when a furious buzzing erupted in his pocket. Startled, he stood up to find its source, but forgot that his hand was stuck inside the vending machine's slot. With a wrenching and rather painful twist to his wrist, he was dragged back down until he was kneeling before the machine. Withdrawing his hand haphazardly from the jaws of the metal beast, he searched his pocket for the source of the buzzing.

It was Ross's phone, and it was displaying the name 'Jenny' on it, with a rather nice picture of the blonde's smiling face.

 _This is it,_ Kyle thought with glee. _This is the opportunity I was waiting for!_

He slid his thumb across the bottom of the screen and said, "Hello?"

"Mike! Finally! I was worried!" The voice on the other end of the line was extremely difficult to hear. It sounded like there were a million other voices talking behind her.

Kyle decided to repay Ross for the day he'd been having by destroying his relationship with Jenny. He refused to acknowledge that he was actually doing him a favor, since he was really in love with Kyle, and not Jenny. So he boldly declared, "I'm breaking up with you."

"What?" she yelled into the phone. Kyle removed it sharply from his ear at the dramatic increase in volume. "I can't hear you!"

Kyle shouted back into the phone, "I'm breaking up with you!"

There was a bout of loud background laughter that made Kyle wince. He hoped his eardrum was still in tact. Jenny yelled back even louder, "I know! Sorry, I don't think I get good cell reception here! You're breaking up too!"

Kyle slapped his hand to his forehead in frustration. Why was nothing going the way he wanted it to, today? "No! I said—"

"I can't hear you!" Jenny shouted back. "I'll call you tonight, okay? Love you!" And like that, it was all over.

Kyle gripped the phone in his hand and shook his fists, resisting the urge to throw the thing against the wall.

Nothing good had come of the damned thing, he decided, so he made a quick decision to just return it. He'd have to put it on the man's desk or hand it over to him in person, but either way, he figured things couldn't be much worse than they were already.

Still frozen in his pose of agony, Kyle looked to the side to catch a glimpse of Louis's scary but delicious muffin-providing secretary stalking away.

He really shouldn't have thought, 'worse'…

It wasn't until he got back to his desk that he realized he'd forgotten the damned skittles.

…

Rachel was trying very hard to not kill Louis.

He had come into her office about three times in the last hour, asking her to do all sorts of menial work that was well below her pay grade. She hadn't thought the loss of Mike would have been so devastating. It seemed that the whole den of associates were on the verge of nervous breakdowns.

She took a minute of respite from her furious typing and leaned back in her chair. Maybe just a little time to rest her eyes would do her some good, and she'd be able to finish faster.

Her phone rang and she grabbed for it, hoping it was Donna with more gossip. She was dying to know about Kyle, and after Louis's appearance in the break room earlier, she was feeling rather worried about Mike.

"Rachel Zane," she answered enthusiastically.

"You'll never guess what Norma just told me," Donna said on the other line.

Rachel aimed her eyes at the ceiling and gave a silent thankful prayer to whatever deity was favoring her.

"Pleeeease tell me!" she begged.

Donna giggled. "Kyle was seen in the break room a few minutes ago, apparently shouting with his significant other."

"About what? I didn't even know he was seeing anyone."

"Well, he was screaming, 'I'm breaking up with you!' repeatedly. He looked pretty upset, so I'm told."

Rachel wondered. If Kyle _was_ dating someone, then he wasn't a very good boyfriend. He'd flirted with Rachel enough to prove that assertion one hundred times over. But she was certain that Kyle was definitely interested in maintaining some sort of romantic relationship, and based off of their earlier evidence, his ideal relationship would involve Mike.

"Oh my God! He totally broke up with someone for Mike!"

Donna laughed. "He is definitely love-struck."

"Do you think Mike knows?"

"Honey, he doesn't have a clue. I almost feel sorry for Kyle. You should have seen his face after Mike hugged him. It was almost so pathetic it was cute."

When Rachel finished laughing, she heaved an exhausted sigh. She was just so tired from all this work Louis had stacked on her desk, and laughing just made her even sleepier.

"Okay, what's wrong? Is Louis bothering you again?" Donna said after Rachel was silent.

"Who _isn't_ Louis bothering? He's gone crazy! Is Mike done working for Harvey yet? I hate to say it, but even I'm considering sacrificing him for the greater good, here."

"I heard about Harold. I hear the secret to surviving that project is the pizza with the cheese _in_ the crust," Donna said.

Rachel laughed again, knowing who had started _that_ particular trend. Then her brain recalled what Harold had told her in the break room and she realized she needed to tell Donna. "Did you hear the news about Kyle's 'daring display of heroics'?"

"I may have," Donna answered.

"Apparently, he stood up in front of all the associates, shouting in defense of Mike's virtue or something."

"Mmm. I heard something about that, but I didn't have time to get the whole story. I was…distracted."

"Well, Harold informed me that this cop started rummaging through Mike's things, and Kyle threatened him." Rachel didn't mention her fears about why the officer was looking through Mike's desk. She trusted Donna, but she wasn't sure Mike did.

Donna surprised her by not using this information to gossip about Kyle, and she wondered, not for the first time, what was really going on with Mike. "A cop?"

"Yeah, apparently."

"Is he still here?"

"No…Why? Mike's not in any trouble, is he?" That worry was starting to reappear, and Rachel gripped the receiver more tightly.

"Because Harvey will be furious to find out that someone's messing with his associate. It's probably one of his client's opposition. There's some nasty sabotaging going on. Let me know if you see him again, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely." Rachel really wanted to believe Donna, hoping that she was just being paranoid about this whole thing. She decided she wouldn't worry about it. If Donna was looking out for Mike, then he'd be fine. No one messed with Donna. "Keep me updated on the Kyle situation."

"Will do. I'm faxing you something Norma found as we speak. Donna out."

Rachel eagerly stood by the fax machine. When it fired up and printed, she all but ripped the paper from the tray and then had to hold back the maniacal howling laughter that wanted to burst forth.

In her hands was a copy of the outside of a used file folder for the Verrington proofs. And on the folder was a drawing of two stick figures. Kyle was definitely in love.


	18. Chapter 18

Mike was starting to feel like himself once more. He'd been having almost no trouble remembering anything. Now all he could think about was how his head was still throbbing dully, and how all the other bruises he'd incurred from slamming into the shelves were starting to ache. He rubbed his shoulder as it flared up in pain.

After Harvey and Donna (mostly Donna) had reassured him that Jenny would probably forgive him for forgetting to call once he explained _why_ he'd forgotten, Mike had tried to get back to work.

Harvey had been extremely happy at this prospect, and had begun stacking a large number of folders into Mike's arms, while Donna shouted, removing the files and returning them to Harvey's desk.

Mike had stood there awkwardly, feeling like he was six again watching his parents fight, and been impressed by Donna's level of concern for him while he silently hoped that Harvey won. He actually wanted to do some work. He knew that if he didn't get it started now, he'd be spending at least three all-nighters at the office in the next week, and he simply couldn't afford that many Red Bulls—especially since they kept disappearing from the break room fridge.

But, of course, Donna won, with Harvey actually agreeing with her at the end. They'd then ganged up on Mike like he'd been the one to initialize the fight, forced him on the couch, and forbade him from doing any work.

"But I can help!" he'd insisted, rising to his feet in protest. They both stared him back into the couch.

"If you leave this office, you're fired," Harvey had said, and Mike had decided it wasn't worth it to protest. He did, however, make a remark about Harvey displaying actual concern.

"The other you was quieter." That actually hurt Mike's feelings, so he decided to take the hint and just shut up.

But now he was bored. He wanted to help with things. It was unfair of them to treat him like he wasn't capable, like he was untrustworthy.

So he sat bitterly on Harvey's couch, tossing a baseball with one hand and staring outside Harvey's windows with longing.

He stood and slowly walked towards the door, trying his luck.

"Where do you think you're going?" Donna's voice asked on the intercom.

"I have to go to the bathroom?" Mike tried desperately.

"Sit down," Donna said.

"I'm fine, really. Let me just go get some work from my desk. I'll even bring it in here and do it."

Donna shook her head and pointed at the couch.

He looked hopefully at Harvey. "No. Just sit tight until we hear from Frank."

"Ugh! This isn't fair, Harvey! I can help!" he begged.

"Do you remember what your attacker looks like?"

"Well, no, not really. It's there, it's just fuzzy," Mike admitted.

"Can you remember all the documents you've read for the Gresham case?"

"Yes?" he said, and winced at the pang in his head as he conjured up the blurred and partial image of the Gresham files.

"Really, Mike?" Harvey asked with a shake of his head.

"They're just not all there yet."

"Then you can't help," Harvey said coldly. "Look, you're useless like this. Just take it easy until you get your memory back and then I promise I'll give you all my work to do."

"I'm useless?" Mike asked quietly, rage building behind his stony expression.

Harvey flinched slightly at the words, as if he just remembered Mike saying that same phrase earlier. "I didn't mean that."

"Whatever," Mike said sullenly, and sank into the couch.

He decided to try to pass the time by reading something in his head, but the fading migraine started to make a pulsing reappearance with his attempt at photo recall, so he gave up.

It was so quiet that he could hear his watch ticking, and he wanted to hurl the thing across the room. That second hand was moving torturously slow. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the leather upholstery, bouncing his legs up and down in a futile attempt to make time flow faster.

Just as Mike thought he was about to go completely clinically insane, Harvey's phone rang, shattering the thick silence.

"Harvey Specter." There was a long pause, and Harvey swiveled his chair to face the windows overlooking the city. "No, Mr. Gresham…Because, you signed a contract promising that you wouldn't…Yes, I'm sure that's in the contract…Because I wrote it," Harvey said rather patiently.

Mike turned to eye Donna's desk and watched the redhead stand and head in the direction of the bathrooms. Harvey's back was still turned to him. This was his chance!

With as slow and silent steps as he could manage, Mike crept out of Harvey's office and proceeded to jog out of eyesight.

Now that he was free he considered where he should hide. He didn't want to be stuck in Harvey's office anymore. What he needed was to go somewhere remote, where they wouldn't think to look for him. Somewhere where he could find something to do and prove that he _wasn't_ entirely "useless".

With his mind made up, he passed through the bull pen, snagged some files, ignored the questioning looks from his colleagues, and headed for the research library.

The stacks provided Mike with a quiet locale where he could easily disappear among the rows of musty books.

The library was empty except for a couple of paralegals, and Mike was actually glad for once that neither of them were Rachel.

Heading over to the stacks that held first edition tomes on international contract law, circa 1979, where he was certain no one ever went, he opened a random folder from the stack he'd found on his desk.

It was one of the Gresham files, and it hadn't been proofed yet.

Thirty minutes later and he was done. He felt accomplished, having completed the work in half the usual amount of time. Though it didn't take the sting off of what Harvey had said, it at least made him feel productive. Trying to hold on to that feeling, he picked up another of what appeared to be a stack of only Gresham files.

He was so busy highlighting and notating that he didn't notice the shadow around the next stack. In fact, it wasn't until the shadow had moved to block Mike's light, making it difficult for him to read, that he actually realized anyone else was nearby.

The shadow was a man wearing the dark blue slacks of a police officer, but his shoes were too high quality, and instead of the uniform shirt, he was wearing a simple white undershirt. His face was shadowed by the light, silhouetting him under the police cap he wore.

Something about this man filled Mike with abject terror, and he couldn't stop himself from shaking as he noticed his position on the floor put him at a distinct disadvantage.

He knew he should probably say something, anything, but he couldn't speak. There was a part of him that was lost, confused, and his migraine spiked as the bile rose in his throat. He was frozen in fear, and he wanted more than anything to move, to break away, to put his arms up in defense, but he couldn't. He just sat there, knees bent to hold the folder open, the highlighter and pen clutched in white-knuckled fingers.

With big blue eyes, he stared up at the monster before him. He remembered this man, saw a memory of him rip something from his fingers and run. But this room was different from that one. The shelves were wood, not metal; the light was warm, not dark and cold; the floor was carpet, not concrete. He didn't know this place—didn't know why he was here, or how this man had found him.

"Where are the files?" the monster said, and his eyes shone beastly in the darkness.

Mike flicked his eyes to the folder in his hand and the ones on the floor. The man toed them and shook his head.

"Those ain't them. Where are they?"

Mike shook his head in confusion. He didn't know what the man wanted.

" _Tch!_ They're worth more than you know, kid. But they ain't worth more than your life." The shadow spoke with a low growl, his voice accented with the tones of Brooklyn.

Mike shook his head again, his eyes pleading.

The man held something out, pointed it at Mike.

The barrel of the gun stared him down, and Mike reacted. He curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around his head. He wasn't sure if it was to protect it from the gun or to stop the drumming pain warring in his skull. He felt afraid and confused and alone. Where was Harvey? He needed to find Harvey! "Harvey," he whimpered pathetically, shaking uncontrollably.

"Harvey Specter, huh?" the gun's wielder said. "Sorry kid. Nothing personal." The gun lowered slightly and came to rest on Mike's knee.

He flinched and whimpered, and he scrunched his eyes closed in apprehension.

But the gun didn't fire. After a minute it left, and Mike dared to look at the shadow once more, eyes wide and fearful.

"You move from there, I'll kill you," it said quietly, the low growl strangely gentle.

Mike watched the shadow run down the aisle and stop at the end. Just before it rounded the corner, it aimed the gun back at him, until it slipped quietly behind the further shelves.

Mike tried to steady his breaths, tried to uncurl himself, tried to stop the shaking, but he was so tired. He was tired and lost and terrified, and he wanted Harvey.

He didn't know where he was, didn't recognize the room, didn't remember how he'd gotten there. But he knew he _should_ know, and he knew Harvey was going to kill him.


	19. Chapter 19

Harvey sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, as he finally hung up with Jim Gresham. The man was simply panicked about his case, and while Harvey couldn't blame him, it was causing everyone all kinds of anxiety. He wished silently that Donna hadn't forced him to keep Mike from working. Now Harvey would be staying late.

He turned from the view out his office windows, which had helped him keep his calm, and looked down at his desk. There were papers strewn across it, and Harvey struggled not to sigh again.

It was so quiet that he could hear his own watch ticking, and it was really getting to him. And that's when he realized that something was wrong.

He looked over to his couch, where he expected to find one Mike Ross sitting uncomfortably and pouting. But the couch was empty, his office door slightly open, and Donna was gone.

Harvey frowned and shook his head in exasperation. Mike was just all kinds of trouble today, and he was really getting tired of it. He should have just forced him into a hospital and let it be someone else's problem.

Setting his work back on the desk, he scribbled a note to Donna that optimistically declared Mike to be with Harvey and not to worry. He really didn't want to fight with his assistant any more. There were only so many horrors he could handle in a day.

Harvey headed over to the bullpen, hoping that Mike had been stupid enough to hide from him at his desk.

Mike's desk was empty. But Harvey noticed that the files he'd had placed on Mike's desk after his talk with Jessica about Jim Gresham were gone. And Mike had been begging to help with Harvey's case. He'd need to go somewhere where he could work, meaning he wouldn't be moving around. One thing in Harvey's favor today, at least.

Fifteen minutes later and he was angry and tired. He'd checked everywhere he could think of, everywhere he knew Mike to have gone before. He wasn't in Rachel's office, under his desk, in the main file room, the copy room, or reception. And while Harvey had doubted he'd have returned to the basement file room, he'd gone and checked anyway. He'd even checked the women's bathroom for good measure; he'd walked away with two phone numbers, but no Mike.

But there was one place he hadn't checked, he thought suddenly. The library was usually only filled with paralegals and the occasional associate they deemed unworthy of their services. And the library was quiet and large, filled with all sorts of now useless law books that Jessica refused to throw away.

Harvey headed there as quickly as he could. By now, Donna had probably come to the conclusion that Harvey was a lying bastard and was plotting his death and funeral.

The library was virtually empty. There were a few paralegals wandering through the stacks, talking to themselves, but no sign of Mike.

Harvey decided to be systematic about this, and started down one aisle, checking every row for signs of his moronic associate.

When he got to the darkest and least used corner of the room, where he was pretty sure the first edition 1970s books were, he found what he was looking for. Sort of.

Mike was hunched on the floor in a crouch, his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth while his eyes darted left and right.

When he spotted Harvey he flinched and fell, raising his arms protectively before him.

"I-I didn't move! I swear! Please, I don't know anything about any files. I don't know _anything_!"

Harvey wondered briefly if this was Mike's idea of a joke, but he dismissed it after a second. That was genuine terror in the kid's voice.

He walked slowly over to his associate, standing over him. Mike seemed to be trying to recede into the shelf he was leaning against, his eyes scrunched in fear.

Harvey crouched down and took hold of one of his wrists, and Mike froze. "Mike," he said simply, and waited.

Mike opened his eyes and stared at Harvey's face, searching him for something. But he didn't uncurl or relax his position. Harvey started to worry that he'd lost his memory again, that he didn't know who he was or who Harvey was.

"Do you know who I am?" Harvey asked quietly.

Mike nodded. "Harvey Specter."

Harvey nodded, feeling slightly relieved. "Try to remember. You did it earlier, you can do it again. What happened?"

Mike closed his eyes and deep frown lines appeared on his forehead, like he was sifting through his mind. Harvey just hoped he hadn't really lost everything again. There were only so many hours in a day, and Harvey intended to spend the remainder of them in his bed, maybe with a pair of long legs.

"I screwed up," Mike said suddenly, a small smile on his face.

Harvey nodded sagely. "Yes, but could you be more specific? I can't keep track."

Mike gave him a look, and Harvey hoped he was back to normal. "I didn't do any one of 146 other things."

Harvey swallowed at Mike's words. He was loath to admit it—and he'd kill any one who suggested it—but he was nervous. Mike had had a gun to his head. _A real gun_. Mike had told him in the very words Harvey had once said to him, and now he was sitting in the library, cowering in the corner and suffering a relapse of amnesia. It made Harvey intensely angry.

And while Harvey Specter was hesitant to show concern in any capacity to his associate, he didn't care about anger. It displayed as a cool expression on his well-defined face, and Mike picked up on it instantly.

"I'm sorry, Harvey. I didn't know what to do. I screwed up again, didn't I?" Harvey closed his eyes as that headache from earlier interrupted his inner thoughts on revenge. Of course, he should have foreseen that Mike would misinterpret his facial expression. For a genius, he really was an idiot.

"I'm just glad you didn't try to grab the gun," Harvey said, walking down the aisle as Mike stood and followed, folders and highlighters in his arms.

His associate gave a little nervous laugh. "Yeah, he was going to shoot my kneecap."

Harvey stopped short.

When he didn't say anything, Mike gave him a questioning look. "Harvey?"

"I'm going to kill him," Harvey said and marched with purpose out of the library.

"Harvey! He has a gun! A _real_ gun!" Mike yelled in worry as he jogged to catch up.


	20. Chapter 20

As it turned out, Kyle's day _could_ get worse.

He'd returned to his desk to find all the associates snickering about him. Not that he could hear them, but he just knew their whispers were about him.

He collapsed onto his chair, leaning back and trying to figure out how best to give Mike his phone back. It had caused nothing but suffering to Kyle's image, and he hoped if returned, it would set things back to normal.

But after sitting at his desk for a few minutes, he'd finally realized that something was missing.

The folder he'd drawn of Mike making gaga eyes at him was gone. Panic seized him and he stood rapidly, causing his desk chair to fall over from the force. The whole bull pen stopped to look at him.

He knew that by now, that paper was long gone. He knew that by now, it had circulated the office. And he knew that by now, he was the laughing stock of Pearson Hardman.

Kyle resisted the urge to throw everything off of his desk and simply stood there, fuming with rage and frustration. Mike Ross. This was all his fault! Figures that Mike Ross would develop a crush on the greatness that was Kyle, and single handedly ruin him enough to make the whole office laugh at him behind his back.

Kyle wondered if he had planned this—if he had purposely set about humiliating Kyle in the hopes that Kyle would accept his love out of sheer desperation.

But while Mike was smart—not as smart as Kyle, but still—he wasn't conniving. He just couldn't come up with those kinds of schemes. On the other hand, he didn't have to. He worked closely with Harvey Specter, and therefore, with Donna. And Harvey's evil, satanic secretary was definitely manipulative enough to concoct such a plan.

Kyle realized that he couldn't dare confront Donna. Not only was it suicide—in more ways than one—but it was not a viable solution.

No, the only way to settle this was with Ross. He'd just have to force the man to confess, to take the fall for all the bad things that had befallen Kyle today.

Then, at last, he could go back to being awesome in peace.

Kyle wondered if this was how Harvey Specter felt _all the time_.

"Ahem," a voice that sounded just slithery enough to be Louis said, interrupting Kyle's thoughts.

"What?" Kyle snapped. He had enough trouble already!

Louis looked startled for a moment before rebounding with a wider, sneakier smile. "You don't seem particularly busy. Did you do those briefs for the Verrington case I gave you an hour ago?" He was smiling like he'd caught Kyle in a trap. After all, virtually no one _normal_ could have had those briefs done in an hour.

But Kyle didn't even need to do them, because, once again, Ross had already done them for him! Kyle had simply put them aside and replaced the original file folders with new ones, so that it had looked like he was extremely busy.

Now, he really didn't have time for Louis. He needed to find Ross! So without really paying full attention to him, he brusquely picked up the Verrington briefs and deposited them in Louis's arms.

Louis had a slight look of shock on his face that Kyle barely registered. "You couldn't possibly have gotten these done—"

"Louis, I'm kind of busy right now. I have to go find Ross," Kyle said, walking away.

Louis gaped at him for a moment. "Well, I need you to do the Tseng files—"

Kyle waved a hand distractedly. "Ross already did them."

If Kyle hadn't been so focused on settling the score with his nemesis, he would have reveled in the glory of having made Louis Litt speechless.

…

Rachel had finally just given in and decided to go question Kyle about Mike. She couldn't stand waiting, and if she let her mind wander, she found herself worrying about that cop.

So despite the fact that she couldn't believe she was actually looking for Kyle, she headed out to the associate's area.

The associates were all bogged down, extremely stressed and pale looking, some on the verge of panic attacks. Louis Litt could be seen pacing his office, restless and constantly looking through things on his desk. When one of the associates managed to finish their work, they stepped into his office only to be chewed out and sent back with their original assignment after being told to redo it.

It seemed the complete lack of Mike was driving everyone mad.

"Rachel," Louis said, as she attempted to sneak by on her way to Kyle's desk. She made a face and turned to enter his office.

"Louis."

The man was just staring at her in his usual creepy fashion, so Rachel coolly stared back.

"How are you?" Louis asked her, a too-friendly smile on his face. It gave Rachel the creeps.

She knew precisely what he was after, or rather, _who_ he was after. "I haven't seen him, Louis."

Louis shrugged and raised his hands, attempting to look innocent. "Seen who?"

Rachel shook her head and turned to leave. She didn't have time for this. She had to find Mike.

"Wait! Rachel! Rachel," Louis said, laughing out her name the second time, a smug smile on his lips. She turned around and put her hands on her hips, making it clear just how unhappy she was to be there.

He stepped up to her so they were uncomfortably close. But he missed her look of utter horror, as he was too busy looking out the glass walls and digging for something in his jacket pocket.

Just as she was eyeballing the three-hole-punch on his desk, Louis whipped out his checkbook with a resigned look. He started scribbling something on it, and Rachel managed only to blink at the stupidity before her.

He tore off the check and waved it in front of her, confidence clear on his face. When it was Mike or Harvey, the expression was endearing; with Louis, it was disturbing.

Rachel didn't bother taking it, but she did look at the amount. She didn't normally value anything Louis had to offer, but she couldn't help but feel insulted that he'd just tried to bribe her with a thirty dollar check. She gave a scowl.

He pulled his lip up to his nose and made a _tsk_ ingsound as he looked at Rachel's expression and changed the three to a four.

Rachel crossed her arms in disbelief. She'd never felt so affronted by a bribe before in her life.

Louis rolled his eyes and gave a huff, changed the four to a five, and said, "That's my final offer."

Rachel shook her head at him. "Honestly, Louis, I haven't seen him. And even if I had…I wouldn't tell you." She turned and headed for the door.

"Fine."

She reached for the door handle.

"I guess you don't want to know, then."

Rachel stopped. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help herself. She turned back to him and stared.

"You're a smart girl, Rachel. You know how this works. You first," he said.

Rachel frowned. "First of all, I never want to hear those words from you ever again."

"Done."

"And second of all," she continued, trying to imitate Donna, "I don't need to get any information from you. I'm friends with Norma."

His panic showed in his eyes as he watched her turn around once more. "Well, I bet you still didn't hear about Kyle."

"Really? I thought the ten dollar bribe was insulting, but…"

"I guarantee you haven't heard this one."

"Bye, Louis!"

"So then you know all about Kyle shouting about how he couldn't do any work because he had to go hunt down Mike?"

Rachel looked at him, watched his smirk fade into stunned shock as he finally realized his error.

She gave him a wicked smile, said, "Really," and then walked out of his office.

As Rachel left his office, Norma gave her a wink and a smile. Rachel snagged a muffin on her way and decided she couldn't wait to share this information with Donna.

She strode purposefully down the hall towards Harvey Specter's office. With any luck, Mike would be there too.


	21. Chapter 21

Harvey marched down the hallway in search of Donna. She would know where Frank was, and the security man better know where that bastard with a gun was. Harvey wanted the honor of getting that son of a bitch, himself. Mike was Harvey's responsibility, and any threats to his person were threats to Harvey. And _no one_ threatened _him_.

He ignored Mike's calls to stop until he was physically forced to. Mike had run in front of him and each attempt to sidestep his associate was aggravatingly unsuccessful.

"Mike," Harvey warned with a growl.

Mike paled a bit, but didn't move. Harvey could still see the fear clear in his eyes, could still see Mike pathetically curled up on the floor, begging Harvey not to hurt him.

"Harvey, he has a gun. I think we should just call the police."

Harvey glared at Mike. "Fine. _After_ I kill him, we can call the police." He hadn't felt this angry since the Clifford Danner case, when Mike had somehow stopped him from beating confessions out of people. His own anger surprised him, but he didn't care. He was too furious to care.

"Harvey, you're not thinking rationally!" Mike said, hands out pleading. Harvey shoved Mike aside and walked past him.

Mike grabbed his sleeve, though, forcing him to stop. "Harvey. Don't do anything stupid."

Harvey smiled menacingly at him. "I never do anything stupid. That's Louis's department."

"This isn't really time for jokes. We should call the police. The _real_ police. To deal with the _real_ gun."

Harvey suddenly realized that Mike wasn't going to leave him alone. And Harvey couldn't eviscerate anybody if caring, amnesiac Mike was there tagging along. It wasn't safe for either of them, and Harvey promised that no one would lay a finger on Mike anymore. He needed to get rid of him fast—for his own protection.

He used all he could think of at the moment—his anger.

"Go home, Mike," Harvey said suddenly, stopping to whirl on his associate.

Mike was so surprised, all he managed to say was, "Wha—?"

"Go home. You've gotten yourself in enough trouble for one day, and I can't afford to babysit you anymore." Harvey's anger was clear, and it drove into Mike like daggers. He could see the wounded look in his eyes.

"What are you _talking_ about?" he asked, confused and disbelieving. "You haven't _been_ 'babysitting' me!" He spit the word out with pure anger, and Harvey's stomach churned. But if he wanted Mike safe and out of the way, he had no choice.

He let his voice turn cold with the rage he felt, and directed its full force at Mike. If he wanted him gone, he'd have to press until it hurt. "I'm talking about how I've had to watch you all day, when I have better things to do, like actually work! I'm talking about how you seem to always get yourself into the worst kind of trouble, and I'm always left to clean up your mess! I'm talking about how, thanks to your incompetence, simple file retrieval has somehow landed us with an amnesiac moron who gets threatened by a man with a gun! So go home, and stay out of the way!" Mike just stared at him in shock, and Harvey seized the opportunity to leave, walking away and leaving him behind.

For a minute, he allowed himself to feel guilty, but he quickly forced it down. It was worth it if it kept Mike safe.


	22. Chapter 22

Mike felt miserable. Harvey's words had surprised him. Not only had his behavior caught him unawares, but his words cut to the bone.

Harvey thought he was useless. Harvey thought he was nothing but trouble. And Mike stood there, stunned and pathetic as he tried to remember everything he'd done today. He realized that Harvey was right. He only seemed to make things worse for everybody.

Maybe he _should_ go home.

"Mike!" He turned around to see a blond man practically running for him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked sweaty and desperate.

"Ummm…" He knew he should know this guy, but he couldn't remember his name. Something with an 'H'?

"Oh thank God! I need your help with these briefs! They're killing me! And Norma keeps giving me muffins and they're just making me tired, and I can't afford to fall asleep because Louis will kill me!"

Mike stared at him and wondered just what this man needed from him. "Well, I'm busy, I think. Why don't you ask Kyle?" Mike vaguely recalled that Kyle had been somewhat generous earlier. Those memories were still a little hazy for some reason.

The blond—Howard? Harry? Henry?—stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "Kyle? Are you crazy?"

Mike hung his head. Maybe he was…

"What's going on with you two? Mike," he leaned in closer as he dropped to a whisper, and Mike tried to not recoil at the smell of coffee, chocolate, sweat, and despair that was heavy on him. "Are you two…dating?"

"What!" he managed.

"Well, I've been hearing things, you know, around the office, and—"

"No! God no!" Mike forced. He honestly hadn't seen that one coming. "We're just friends." At least he was pretty sure they were friends. Kyle had given him a muffin _and_ found his wallet, after all.

"Really?"

Mike nodded furiously. "Really."

"Oh, poor Kyle," he said, though he didn't seem all that upset about it.

"What do you mean?"

Harry—Mike just picked a name—looked afraid, his eyes darting around the hallway. "Well, you know…I really shouldn't be saying. He might kill me."

Mike just stared at him.

"Well, okay. I think he might want to be… _more_ than friends, if you know what I mean."

Mike shook his head. He had no clue. And he wasn't sure he wanted to, but he was sure he was going to find out.

"Earlier, he totally defended you in front of all the associates. He's been drawing pictures of you two together, and I heard he even broke up with his girlfriend for you."

Mike was shocked. He'd thought Kyle was nice in the sort of 'I'll pretend-insult you and you pretend-insult me back' kind of way, but he'd never thought the man was…in love?

"Oh," was all he could say.

"Yeah. You really didn't know?"

He shook his head. How much _had_ he forgotten?

"Well, if you don't feel like talking to him, you might want to hide. I heard he blew off Louis to go look for you. Hey! You could come help me! He'd never think to look for you there! Everyone's been avoiding me lately."

"Um, I guess, yeah. Thanks," Mike managed. Harry looked gleeful at this.

"Really? I totally owe you one, Mike. Louis stuck me on the Lyle-Carmichael briefs, and they just finished printing an hour ago. I'm only ten pages in!"

Mike walked with the man down the hall toward the copy room. He could do this, he could be useful. He'd show Harvey he wasn't just a useless trouble magnet. "Well, it sounds like you could use some expert help."

"Totally. How'd you manage to do it before, all by yourself?" Harry asked him.

"Well, have you ever had the pizza with the cheese _in_ the crust?"

…

When Harvey made it to his office he was met with a large death-glare from his assistant. It took him a minute to figure out why.

"You 'brought Mike' with you, huh?" she asked. Harvey recalled the note he'd left her that promised Mike's safe return.

"He decided to go home early," Harvey said, trying to disguise his latent fury from the redhead. No need to add fuel to the fire.

"' _He_ decided'?" she asked.

"Do you hear an echo in here?" Harvey asked rudely. It seemed he wasn't controlling his temper as well as he'd thought, and it made him angrier.

Donna's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?" Her voice was low and slow, and he knew he was in trouble now.

"I made sure he was safe," he said, letting the anger tinge his voice. This was one thing he wouldn't back down on.

She glared at him, stood and leaned forward over her desk. "Harvey. Tell me, for the love of God, that you did _not_ yell at Mike."

Harvey used his ire to squash down his guilt. He leaned toward Donna and said, "I did what was necessary."

They locked their eyes in what felt like a battle of fury until they were interrupted by a cough.

Harvey snapped his head around to see that paralegal behind him.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," she said nervously.

"No," Harvey said rudely as Donna barked out a, "Yes."

Rachel looked between them, confused.

Harvey could see Donna glaring at him from the corner of his eye. To Rachel, he said, rather harshly, "Mike's not here."

She looked mildly offended. "Actually, I'm here to see Donna." She held up a file folder like it was supposed to mean something to him.

Donna raised an eyebrow at him, and he got the idea he was supposed to leave. He wasn't going to. "Where the hell is Frank?"

Donna crossed her arms.

Harvey looked murderously at her, daring her to say no to him. He was fairly certain he'd pay for it greatly later, but right now, he didn't have the time or the patience necessary to deal with Donna's power plays.

"I'll call him," she said finally, and reached for the phone on her desk. Rachel didn't leave, and Harvey stared at her. She wilted a bit under his venomous gaze, but didn't move.

"Is everything…okay?" Rachel dared to ask. Harvey just stared at her. He knew she and Mike were friends, but while he actually valued Rachel, he couldn't care less about her at the moment.

"Harvey," Donna said, rescuing Rachel from his potentially fatal response. He turned his attention back to his assistant. "He's on his way. He says he found something."

Harvey nodded and headed for his office. He needed quiet to think of the best way to kill that guy.

"Oh, and Harvey," Donna said too sweetly. He stopped but didn't turn. "If you've made things worse, you'll wish you worked with _Louis_ instead of me."

Harvey took a calming breath, for all the good it did him, and pushed into his office. "Send Frank in when he gets here." He turned his head to sweep his gaze across the two women. "Then we'll _all_ go fix this."

Donna gave a curt nod and beckoned Rachel closer, and Harvey took up a furious pacing, the baseball Mike had left on his couch gripped tightly in his fist.


	23. Chapter 23

Rachel had the feeling she'd walked in on something private, and the look on Harvey's face was enough to make her want to hide under Donna's desk. But the look on Donna's face was just as bad, so she decided just to stand her ground until they were done.

She got the notion that they were talking about Mike and the big mysterious problem that involved him, and she doubted she'd be included anymore than she already was.

But as Harvey slammed his office door and started wearing holes in the floor, Donna waved at her to come closer.

"What's with the file? More doodles from our resident artist?" She could tell Donna was trying her best to not show her residual anger, but it made her tone rather clipped anyway.

"No. It was just an excuse to come see you."

Donna nodded and attempted a grin. Rachel hadn't seen her this mad before. Donna was usually the world's best actress, and the fact that her current expression wasn't at all convincing made Rachel wonder just what was going on.

"I had some gossip about Kyle and Louis, but it seems like now's not the best time."

Donna sat down and rested her head on her fingertips, arm leaning on the chair's armrest. She looked tired. "Tell me. I need something fun right now."

Rachel was concerned, but she didn't want to upset the woman, especially after the mess she'd just walked into. "Well, I heard Kyle just blew off Louis to go look for Mike. And he did it in front of the entire bullpen."

Donna smiled, and Rachel was glad to see some of the normal mischief back in her eyes. "Norma did say something about that. I heard you affronted Louis."

Rachel smiled. "He tried to bribe me. With thirty bucks."

Donna shook her head. "He never learns. Next time, just tell him you know about what happened on March 2nd, 2007."

"I have no clue what happened on March 2nd, 2007."

"But _he_ doesn't know that," Donna said with a wink.

Rachel's reply was postponed by the arrival of Frank. She knew vaguely of the man, that he was the building's head of security.

Frank was tall—like over six feet kind of tall—with bulging muscles still visible beneath his cheap suit, his black hair slicked back in what resembled a 1960s mafia man, and a glint in his eyes that promised he'd be real nice until he had to kick your ass.

"Frank!" Donna called warmly to him. The man gave her a warm smile and a hug, and Rachel tried to mask the surprise on her face.

In a thick New Jersey accent, Frank said, "Hey, is Specter here?"

Donna nodded, made a face to the man, and pressed the intercom button. Rachel didn't hear what was said, but she knew it caused Harvey to stand still in his office and glare out the outside windows. She could see him clutching a baseball in his hands. It made her think of Mike.

"He says for us to come in." Donna stood and opened Harvey's door, letting Frank walk in. She looked at Rachel expectantly.

Rachel figured Harvey wouldn't want her there, so she started to leave.

"You too," Donna called to her.

"I thought," she left off in reply.

"Harvey said for everyone to come in. That includes you."

Rachel was glad she could be in the loop for once today, but she didn't understand why Harvey would allow it. "Why?"

Donna shrugged. "I guess Frank's going to tell us."

They headed inside.

…

Mike's eyes felt like they were about to start bleeding. He'd burned through seventy pages in the last half hour, and still he was nowhere closer to finishing.

Harry—Mike still couldn't remember his name—was still on box number one, but he appeared to be almost done.

Mike tried to ignore the boredom and the pain in his eyes, and focus on proving Harvey wrong. He could do this.

He pressed his highlighter onto the page, only to find he'd already used the thing entirely. Angrily, he threw it against the wall.

"Whoa, Mike, there's no need for violence," Harry said from somewhere next to him. It was hard to see the other man beneath all the boxes and piles of paperwork.

Mike didn't respond. He didn't know why he felt so angry all of a sudden. He tried to wrap his head around it, but the words from the pages he'd just read were buzzing in his brain and distorting his memories.

"Mike? Are you okay?"

He vaguely realized he was now clutching his head in his hands and swaying, and that Harry was leaning over the stack of papers, eyeing him with concern.

Mike steadied himself. "I'm good. Just tired."

Harry nodded and sat back down. "Yeah, I'm about ready to order that pizza. I don't know how you do it, but you're already two boxes ahead of me. It's not fair…"

Mike nodded. It really wasn't fair. He could work faster than anyone else here, and he almost always had to. So why didn't Harvey show any appreciation? _That jerk!_

He scrambled on his desk for another highlighter, yanking the cap off and harshly striking the line of text with the pink fluid.

He looked at the hole he'd torn in the paper, and decided to tone it down a bit. The Lyle-Carmichael briefs never hurt anyone. Well, actually, a couple of boxes had fallen on him and Harry earlier, but they hadn't done it on purpose.

So he settled into the work, hoping his anger wouldn't burn through again and would simply let him be. But as always, things didn't go as planned.

It was his own fault, really. His back was hurting him, leaning over the table, so he propped his feet up on the seat of his chair, and rested his current stack of papers on his knees. He heard someone calling his name, but when he looked up, he was in the library again. There was a shadow before him, and Mike saw it reaching out, felt the ghost of the gun barrel rest on his knee again. This was it. The man had come back to finish the job. Mike had moved, and the man had promised death for disobeying.

Mike let the stack of papers fall to the floor; no reason to get them bloody just because of him.

This was it. He took a raggedy breath. He hoped Harvey wouldn't tell his grandmother how he'd died, that he'd make something up. And he felt guilty that he hadn't remembered her until this moment. They say you remember what's most important, at the end. He wondered what it meant if he'd thought of his grandmother and Harvey. Not that it mattered anymore.

Faintly, he heard his name being called. He hadn't known the gunman knew his name. So he opened his eyes once more to look into the face of death, and found…

"Ms. Pearson?" he said in shock. He looked around frantically, searching for the shadow. He couldn't see it, but then most of the room was hidden from view by large stacks of boxes and papers and copy machines.

"Mmm," his boss's boss said. She looked down at him with open suspicion. Mike didn't look back, but kept his eyes darting around the room behind her. He needed to warn her in case she was in danger.

"He was here," Mike said. He stood up and was surprised when he fell back onto his chair. His legs were wobbly.

"Mike? Who's here?" Harry said, appearing beside Jessica. He turned to look around the room, but then let his gaze fall back to Mike.

Mike stared at Harry, then back at their surroundings—the stacks of paper, the white walls, the copy machines. It certainly wasn't the library. He felt like a fool. What's worse, he'd just had a "special moment" (he was sure Harvey would call it something like that) in front of Jessica Pearson of all people.

He shook his head in embarrassment. "No one. Sorry. Too many Red Bulls," he laughed nervously.

Jessica just gave him a look that told him she clearly saw through his excuse. He wondered, not for the first time, if she actually already knew about his lack of law school experience.

"Well, get back to work. We need these briefs done by tomorrow." She waited for their nods before turning to leave.

"You sure you're okay?" Harry asked, and Mike saw Jessica slow. He knew he'd have to convince her he was fine if he wanted her gone.

"I'm fine, Harry." He looked at Jessica from the corner of his eye, just in time to see her look suspicious. His breath caught in his throat.

But after a second she turned and exited the copy room. He let out a deep breath.

Harry was looking at him oddly, though. "What?" Mike asked, slightly annoyed now.

"Only my mom calls me Harry," the blond associate said meekly.

Mike just stared at him. "Lot's of work to do, right?"

Harry nodded, and Mike wondered why he'd agreed to help this man.

After a minute, Harry sat back down and they continued working. It was only about ten minutes later that Mike noticed the shadow figures all around them.

He really should have gone home.


	24. Chapter 24

Harvey was livid. He'd gone through all the other terms for fury he could think of, but that one was the most elegant. So he was livid.

Mike was in danger. Mike had been almost shot. Mike's kneecap had almost been blow into oblivion point blank.

His signed baseball was probably starting to be worthless from Harvey attempting to crush it into oblivion.

Frank's arrival had made him stop, and he looked out the window, considering whether it would be satisfying to see the file-stealing, associate-threatening bastard falling from this height.

"Harvey," Donna's voice said on the intercom. She was still pissed, but Harvey was livid. Nothing beat that at the moment.

"Everyone, in," he managed, his words sounding short and forced.

When they'd all filed in, he noticed Rachel fidgeting next to Donna. The assistant had her arms crossed in anger, but there was worry on her face too. Frank looked calm.

"Specter," Frank said.

"Frank," Harvey replied curtly. He didn't know why the man supposedly didn't like him, and he didn't care. All he cared about was fixing this whole situation so he could get back to work, go home, and have pretty awesome sex with some leggy brunette. _What about Mike?_ his brain asked him. Harvey shoved that thought down. He didn't have time to be thinking about his feelings. He was angry, damn it!

Frank was glaring at him, but Harvey didn't care. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Found some security footage of our perp. He's only in the frame for three seconds, but he's there."

Harvey waited. "And?"

Frank sighed. "We can show it to the police, Specter. I already called them."

Harvey swore. He noticed Rachel start at the expletive. Cops meant he couldn't get the guy himself.

"Harvey," Donna said, and when had she gotten next to him? Harvey leaned into her. He needed his anger to go somewhere.

"Where is this guy?" he managed through gritted teeth.

"We're searching for him now. I have several of our best on it, and the police are sending a unit over to search the floors. I'm supposed to tell you that if you see this guy, you should not approach him and you should contact the authorities."

Harvey's jaw tightened. His fist clenched the baseball until he was certain he had rubbed off the signature. He could feel Donna's hand squeezing his arm, like she was afraid he'd explode otherwise.

Frank gave Harvey a weighing look, then calmly continued. "I'm obligated to instruct you to follow these directions. However, I certainly wouldn't let you know that this guy was last seen not twenty minutes ago near the men's bathrooms a floor below. And I definitely wouldn't tell you that if you're really scared to go wandering the halls alone, you can be accompanied by an armed security agent who would be obligated to defend you. And there's really no need to explain anything about self defense in the case of an encounter with this guy. You're all intelligent people. But all the same, I'd understand if you didn't want to leave, say, for the bathrooms, without an escort."

Frank was now sporting an innocent smile, and Harvey decided that he liked this guy. Whether or not he let Mike and possibly other associates into the sanctity of the senior partner break room was beside the point.

Harvey's jaw was still rigid with tension, but his eyes caught Frank's smile. "I am definitely too valuable to go out by myself."

Frank nodded and looked at Donna.

"Of course, Harvey can't go anywhere without his lovely assistant. And I'm way more valuable than Harvey, so I'll need to be accompanied too." Donna looked over at Rachel, who looked somewhat shell-shocked by all this talk of a gunman. Harvey suspected she hadn't had a clue about any of this until now. He wondered why she was even in here, but then remembered that Donna liked the paralegal, and the paralegal liked Mike.

"And I'll need to help Donna," Rachel said.

Frank looked like he was about to protest, but Harvey cut in with, "She's helping me on a case. She has to come too."

Rachel looked at Harvey with mild surprise, and Frank nodded curtly. Donna gave Harvey's arm a friendly squeeze. He hoped she was less mad at him now, but knew he would still be in for a world of trouble. None of that mattered at the moment, though, because Mike was in trouble _now_. That came first.

"Well, let's get moving, then," Frank said, and they all headed out of Harvey's office.

"Should I know what's going on?" Rachel asked Donna as they walked down the hall.

"Donna, where are those files?" Harvey interrupted.

"Where no one will find them," she said mysteriously.

"What files?" Rachel asked.

"You're sure?" said Harvey.

"You really want to find out?" Donna threatened.

"No. That's the point."

"Don't think I've forgotten about what you did to Mike."

"What's wrong with Mike?" Rachel begged.

"Let's just announce our presence to the man with the gun, shall we?" Harvey stalled.

Donna gave him a glare that promised future retribution, and Harvey ignored it as best he could by following Frank. Rachel looked desperately at him before donning a resigned look.

"No one's going to answer me, are they?" She complained as they continued down the hallway.

…

Kyle was not having fun. He'd been searching for Mike Ross for what felt like hours, though he knew it had only been a few minutes.

The man was nowhere to be found and he'd looked nearly everywhere!

He'd searched the conference rooms, the main copy rooms, the offices, the break rooms, the bathrooms, and even the bull pen. He'd gotten kicked out of the women's bathroom, had to duck out of the associate's area after spotting Louis, and had narrowly avoided being spotted by Norma. He doubted she'd do more than give him a look, but with her that was more than enough.

He was starting to feel so hopeless that he almost wished Louis _had_ forced him to help Harold with the Lyle-Carmichael briefs. But he wasn't _that_ defeated.

 _No. The search must go on_ , he thought.

Steeling himself, he strode purposefully on down the hall, determined to find his quarry.


	25. Chapter 25

Mike wasn't feeling very good. He felt shaky and wired, like he'd had too much Red Bull on an empty stomach.

The shadows around the room kept shifting, changing and transforming into various figures, but never clear enough to let him actually hold the image for long.

He knew they weren't real, that he was imagining them, but they _felt_ real. He wished he'd actually listened to Harvey "Heartless" Specter and just gone home, but reasoned that he'd probably have had a panic attack on his bike and gotten himself killed. He really needed to stop thinking about death.

What was wrong with him anyway? It's not like he'd actually gotten hurt—well, aside from being hit on the head, knocked into a bunch of metal shelves, and given amnesia. He hadn't actually died, so there was no reason for any of this. It made Mike angry and bitter; it made him feel like Harvey's words were all the more true. He hated that, thought he'd gotten past it.

"Mike?"

"What?" he said, starting at the sound of his name. He looked around to see Harry looking expectantly at him. The shadows crossed and shifted behind him, and Mike followed one out the corner of his eye.

"I asked if you had the one on the estate in North Bend. I can't find it and I need to cross reference it with this one." Harry looked mildly concerned, but he hadn't really stopped looking mildly concerned since Jessica Pearson had arrived. Apparently, Mike had freaked him out so much that he'd grabbed the nearest person from the hallway to assist him. Mike hoped he hadn't actually _grabbed_ their boss, or he didn't think he'd be working with Harry again soon.

"Um, yeah, I think so. I put it down a minute ago. Let me see," Mike said, searching through the papers on his side of their table. He remembered working on it, so it had to be around somewhere.

He bent down to search the stack at his feet. His eyes scanned the pages in front of him as he moved the folders. There was a shadow over one of his pages and Mike froze, looking up to search for the source.

There was nothing but air before him, and when he looked down again, there was no shadow. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He really needed to get over this. There was no excuse for how pathetic his mind was behaving right now. _Harvey would be ashamed_ , Mike thought before realizing that Harvey _had_ been ashamed.

Angry again, he picked up his pace, digging through the folders. "Found it!" he called and handed the folder to Harry.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

There was more silence while they worked, the shadows fading as Mike placed more effort into ignoring them. He refused to be having hallucinations over a little threat.

His kneecap twitched as it felt the ghost of the gun again. He jumped at the memory.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked him.

"I'm fine!" Mike snapped. He was really trying to convince himself more than Harry, but he realized it had still sounded rude. "Sorry, I'm just…tired."

"Me too. It feels like we've been doing this forever, but it's only been about an hour and a half." Harry sounded suspicious, but he'd dropped the subject it seemed.

Mike nodded in reply, rubbing the stiffness out of his neck with one hand, the other tightened on his knee where the shadow had touched him.

"And you're still about five stacks ahead of me," Harry whined.

Mike couldn't help the laugh that escaped at the sound Harry made. It sounded miserable and it made Mike feel more confident.

"Man, I could really use some more caffeine," Harry added. He made to stand, but Mike beat him to it. Maybe a walk would do him good.

"I'll get it."

"What about Kyle?"

Mike winced. He'd honestly forgotten the reason he'd agreed to help Harry in the first place. He wondered if Kyle was really searching for him, and while he didn't really want to find out, he decided it was worth the risk if he could conquer his problem.

"I'll take my chances," he said gravely.

Harry laughed. "Good luck, then!" He gave a mock salute.

"If I don't make it, tell Louis to suck it." Mike said and headed out of the copy room. It was one of the less used ones, mainly because it was out of the way, and they often shoved the associates in it when they had cases like the Lyle-Carmichael one. So Mike had to walk nearly halfway around the building to get to the break room.

It was fortunately empty. He opened the fridge, searching for any leftover Red Bulls, but only found one marked _Kyle_ on it in sharpie. _So_ that's _who was taking them!_ he thought angrily.

He rooted around the cupboards and grabbed the necessary items. He reached absentmindedly for the coffee pot only to find it was empty. Was it really so hard for people to make another pot?

Mike busied himself making another batch of coffee, and tried to ignore the way the room was darkening around him. He dug a spoon of coffee grinds into the filter and dropped the entire thing when a shadow rose from the dark blend.

He shut his eyes as tightly as he could and willed the visions to disappear.

But when he opened his eyes there were more of them, all deep silhouettes, grinning evilly and waving guns around as they neared him.

Mike backed into the fridge, clutching at its sides desperately. They were laughing at him, wicked and sharp and so real sounding.

"Go away!" he shouted angrily at them. "You're not real!"

"Scared?" one of the figures taunted, and Mike tried to not think about how its voice sounded uncannily like Harvey's.

He shook his head. "I'm just imagining you. You're not real; you're just a manifestation of my brain due to trauma."

"Is that so?" the figure grinned. It took a step towards him and the other shadows followed eagerly.

"Go away!" he shouted back at them. He repeated the phrase, hoping it would be effective. But they just drew closer.

"Please," he whispered, surprised to hear the word from his own lips. He sank pathetically down to the floor, hugging his knees and begging.

The shadow figures stopped and faded into the room, all except the taunting figure. It said nothing more as it peered down at him with its glowing eyes, only laughed and laughed, like it found Mike's state entertaining.

Mike blinked back the tears he felt and seemed to come back to his senses at the sound of the shadow's laughter. He stood angrily and glared down the figure. "Get out," he said, and this time it listened.

"You can't run forever," it whispered to him as it faded from sight.

Mike took a deep breath and decided he'd analyze his mental state and the implications of his visions later. He felt stiflingly warm, and in search of something to cool him down, he opened the never used freezer of the break room's fridge.

Mike stared at its unexpected contents—which had resurrected his amnesia-inducing headache from before—for a full minute before realizing exactly what he was looking at.

Inside the freezer was a very familiar box of aging files.


	26. Chapter 26

Harvey anxiously worried his thumb over the stitching of the autographed baseball. They were at the bathrooms where Frank claimed Mike's assailant had been spotted, but there was no sign of anyone, let alone an intruder with a gun.

He'd been hoping to catch this guy by now. If the police hadn't shown up yet, they would be here any minute.

Harvey managed to keep his face involved in imitating a piece of stone, refusing to let any of his uncharacteristically prominent emotions become visible.

He could feel the nervousness from Donna and Rachel as they trailed behind him. Rachel probably hadn't a clue as to what was really going on, and Harvey was happy to keep it that way. But she cared about Mike, and she was nosy enough to cause trouble if not watched, so he'd decided to keep her around. And Donna…well, he never had been able to make her do anything she didn't already want to do.

So Harvey trusted in Frank, who was looking angrier and angrier as they walked, and hoped that he'd lead them in the right direction.

They marched on down the hall with fierce determination.

…

Mike had taken the cold box out of its nook and carried it out of the break room.

He had no idea why he'd done this, because his head was now pounding and making it very difficult to remember things.

He couldn't remember what he'd been doing in the break room, for example, or why he'd been there in the first place.

Holding that box, though, he felt like he was supposed to be with Harvey. In his mind, he could see a hastily written number in Harvey's writing on a piece of paper, all crumpled and smudged, and he knew it matched the box's number. But he didn't know why.

So he walked very slowly down the hall as he tried to concentrate.

He'd been working with Harry, hadn't he?

 _Harold_ , his brain corrected him.

 _I knew it started with an 'H'!_ he thought triumphantly.

 _Focus!_ his brain yelled.

He thought he recalled a conversation about getting coffee, and there being evil, obnoxious shadows pestering him, and then a box in the freezer.

The box. The box with files. _What files?_ Mike wondered, trying to remember through the pain in his head.

" _Adrian Walker's files?"_ said Harvey's voice.

"Adrian Walker's files," Mike said softly, and then he finally knew. These files had started everything. But why were they in the freezer? He'd given them to Harvey, and Harvey had given them to Donna for safekeeping.

And more importantly, why was he holding them while standing obviously in the hallway where anyone could see him?

He realized he should put them back, or hide them somewhere else. He decided he knew just the place in the break room and turned around to head back.

He made it a step before coming face to face with the gun wielder, the destroyer of kneecaps, the impersonator of police officers.

The shadows were back, pouring from the walls, rising from the floor, and they swirled around them as the two men stared at each other.

Mike wanted to run, but the man had a gun. He wanted to run, but his feet were frozen.

And all around the shadow figures laughed.

…

Kyle was extremely unhappy. He'd been everywhere on the entire floor where Ross would possibly be six times, and still no sign of the man.

He had finally decided to see if maybe he'd hidden in the copy room with Harold, but when he'd spied into the room he'd found only the pale blond associate frantically working. No Ross.

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to yank out handfuls of his perfectly curled hair, Kyle headed in the direction of the break room. After all this hunting, he decided he needed something to keep him going. He recalled stealing a Red Bull from Ross's stash the other day and guessed it was probably still in the fridge where he'd hidden it.

While he was walking over, however, he spotted a familiar man, still wearing most of his police officer's uniform. He'd lost the hat and shirt somewhere, and was now just wearing a simple undershirt in its place.

The man had his back to Kyle and was obviously talking to someone, though he wasn't sure to whom.

Kyle decided that no matter what this man was here for, he had no business being in this building.

He took a step closer, determined to threaten the man until he left. But as he approached he caught snippets of a conversation.

"Hand 'em over," the fake cop said.

"I-I can't," said another voice, and Kyle thought it sounded almost like Ross's. But Ross had never sounded _that_ pathetic.

The fake cop growled, shoulders tensed, and said, "I already warned you, kid. Now hand 'em over or it won't be your kneecap that gets it."

Kyle took a silent step forward, trying to see just what was going on. He stood on his toes to see over the cop's shoulders and found a frightened looking Mike Ross holding a box of file folders.

Ross's eyes flicked over to Kyle's for a split second, and Kyle knew he was asking for help. That's when Kyle finally followed where Mike's eyes were staring and spotted the gun.

It was smaller than he'd have thought, and it had an extra cylindrical attachment, which he recognized as a silencer. Carefully, Kyle crept back until he was sure he was out of earshot, and took one final look at Mike Ross.

Mike Ross, who was in love with Kyle, was now being held at gunpoint.

Kyle didn't like the guy, sure, but it didn't mean he wanted him to die. But there was no way Kyle was going to risk getting injured on Ross's behalf, either. So instead of trying to save Ross right there and then, he decided he'd just go find someone else who would.

…

Harvey was getting antsy. Not only was he livid now, but antsy. And he hated that word.

They had been searching everywhere, and still no sign of the attacker. Frank was periodically talking into a tiny radio to the other people searching for the guy. Donna and Rachel looked worried.

"We'll find him," Donna reassured him. She didn't look so angry anymore, just concerned.

"Mike's not in any trouble, is he?" Rachel asked.

Harvey didn't answer, just squeezed the baseball in his fist some more.

"Harvey," Donna said, disturbing his thoughts of that scared Mike Ross cowering in the library.

He looked at Donna and shook his head, jaw clenched.

Frank was saying something to them, suddenly, and Harvey tried to find the phrase that assured they knew the location of the gunman.

There was a strange noise behind them that Harvey couldn't quite place, distracting him from Frank's voice. It almost sounded like footsteps.

He turned to find the source of the noise, wondering if he'd finally gone crazy from all that had happened during the course of the day, when he found that douche of an associate running up to them.

Kyle stopped before them and doubled over, gasping for air. Harvey glared at the man. He saw Rachel and Donna share a look and wondered what that was all about.

"Mike's not here," Donna said. Rachel snickered.

"No…it's…R-Ross," Kyle panted, looking somewhat indignantly at the two women.

Harvey straightened, suddenly interested in what Kyle had to say. "Mike? What's wrong?"

"Why would you assume something's wrong?" Rachel asked worriedly. Harvey ignored her.

"Fake cop…gun…wanted files," Kyle managed, struggling to breathe. Harvey finally noticed the fear in his eyes.

He could feel his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He'd told Mike to leave, hadn't he? It was his fault. He shouldn't have let the kid out of his sight. "Where?" he managed.

"Break room," Kyle said quickly.

Harvey looked at the associate for a second before cursing. "Damn it, Mike! I told you to go home," he said and sprinted down the hall. He was going to kill Mike for not listening to him. Right after he killed the gunman first, of course.

He heard Donna and Rachel calling after him, but he didn't slow. His pride questioned the fact that he was running full speed through the halls of Pearson Hardman in front of everyone, but he didn't care. All he could think about was the scared look on Mike's face back in the library, the hurt in his eyes as he yelled at him to go home, and how all of this was Harvey's fault.

 _Don't get yourself shot, rookie_. _I'm coming._


	27. Chapter 27

Mike stood before the gunman, box of files in his hands, feet frozen, and shadows looming all around them. It looked like some strange vision from a fantasy novel, except that Mike wasn't sure if he was the main character and that his continued existence was guaranteed by a sequel or not.

He'd hoped that Kyle would have displayed his rumored adoration for Mike at that moment and actually done something useful, but instead the stupid jerk had just run away.

Mike felt hopeless and mortal and already dead, yes, but mostly he felt alone.

He wished he'd gotten to talk to his grandmother more, that he'd asked her all the questions he suddenly had, about his parents, about her life. He wished he'd reconciled with Trevor; that he'd gotten to see Jenny one last time; that he'd made jokes with Rachel that morning; that he'd helped Harold finish those damned Lyle-Carmichael briefs. He thought of Donna, and her all-knowing looks and the way she always seemed like she was about to throw him to the sharks (both the literal and metaphorical kind) but then helped him out at the last second. And lastly, he thought of Harvey.

Harvey Specter. Lawyer extraordinaire. Heartless, uncaring bastard. And Mike's greatest achievement. He realized somewhat sadly, but in no way regretfully, that meeting Harvey had been the greatest thing he'd ever done in his entire life. He really wished that he could have repaid him someday.

Mike heard his adversary cock the gun he held discreetly pointed at Mike's abdomen. At this range, it probably didn't matter where the bullet hit him.

"Last chance," he said in that growl. For some reason, he sounded almost begrudgingly unwilling. Mike raised his eyes from the lethal instrument between them and met his attacker's grey ones. They looked hard, but sad.

Mike dropped his eyes to the box in his arms and flicked them back and forth between the gunman's face, the box, and the gun. An idea occurred to him suddenly, and he risked a glance over his shoulder to see the empty hallway stretch on behind him.

"Uh-uh. Don't, kid. You wouldn't make it."

Mike looked back at the man and let some of the fear flood his face. It helped that it was real.

Behind the gunman, the Harvey-like shadow stood. Its glowing abstract visage smirked back at him in what Mike hoped was encouragement. The other shadows surged around, as if they were trying to break his focus on that one figure. But the shadow-Harvey stood strong, a rock-hard personification of Mike's inner strength.

In a split second, the gunman's eyes crinkled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

In that split second, Mike had made his decision. He threw the box at the man so that all the papers were pulled down by the vice-like grip of gravity, and the files poured from the opening.

The gun went off, the papers flew, the gunman staggered, and Mike ran. He ran straight past the gunman, not down the empty corridor that had stretched hopelessly behind him, but towards the opening that promised life.

He didn't care that the pounding in his head had increased two-fold, or that the aches in his shoulders, his back, and his hips had returned to throttle him. All he cared was that he was alive, and that he was running.

Down at the close of the hallway the shadow-Harvey stood. His smug look of satisfaction seemed to propel Mike forward, as though he was being pushed by some unknown force towards the figure.

He reached the end and shadow-Harvey pointed. Mike followed his direction and turned around a corner, hearing the ping of the silenced gunshot, and the distinctive sound of a bullet striking the drywall where he'd been a mere second before.

The sound shocked him, made him turn his head to its source while his feet kept marching. So it came as a surprise to him when he slammed into something with enough force that it knocked him over.

"Mike?" said a voice he somewhat recognized. It sounded almost like Harvey, but with actual concern laced into it.

So Mike, in his confused, completely out-of-breath state, just had to double-check. "Harvey?"

Then there were hands on his shoulders, checking under his jacket, while searching eyes skimmed over his face.

"You're okay," Harvey stated.

Mike nodded in bewilderment. He saw Harvey, sure, but this couldn't be the real thing. He looked around for the shadow-Harvey, thinking maybe he was hallucinating again, but the figure was gone.

"I'm okay," he answered in muted surprise.

He realized they were still sitting on the floor where their suits would be most likely ruined, so Mike made to stand. Harvey rose smoothly, like he'd never been lying on the floor in the first place. Mike wasn't so lucky.

He tried to stand but sank back down to the ground again in surprise. He guessed his legs were still shaking from the fear and the adrenaline.

He realized for the first time that there were others surrounding him—Donna was standing with her back to them like she was security; Rachel was peering down at him from a few feet back with pure worry; and Kyle (Mike did a double-take when he saw him) was standing awkwardly next to Rachel, occasionally glancing down at Mike to send him a spectacularly crafted scowl.

And then he focused back on Harvey as he realized with alarm that he hadn't heard Harvey asking him questions. He realized with sudden elation that he was still alive to answer them.

…

Harvey waited until Mike had acknowledged his order to stay put before following Frank down the corridor. He knew Donna and Rachel would keep an eye on Mike, and while he didn't like the idea of leaving the kid, he had to know the gunman was neutralized.

He ran into the hallway to see Frank grappling with the thief, the silenced gun lying on the floor next to them.

The thief kicked Frank in the gut and reached for the gun. Seeing his move, Harvey sprinted over and slammed his foot down on the man's hand just as it wrapped around the grip. The thief let out a frustrated cry as he struggled to extricate his hand.

Frank chose that moment to recover his own gun—a tazer—and point it at the guy. He gave Harvey a glare, and with a grimace at Frank, stopped struggling.

Frank pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and tossed them at Harvey.

"Cuff him, will you, Specter?" Harvey bent down to secure the weapon first, before hauling the thief to a sitting position and fastening the handcuffs tightly around his wrists.

They were all surprised by the loud footsteps that came from the other end of the corridor, and turned to see what looked like an entire team of police officers in tac vests coming towards them.

Harvey frowned, wishing he'd had time alone with the thief to properly thrash him, and begrudgingly placed his hands in the air, per their instructions.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"Easy money, my ass," the thief grumbled softly. Harvey looked at the man and wondered, not for the first time just what he'd been trying to do. Adrian Walker had told him that this was about someone trying to replace him as CEO using old files as blackmail. But Harvey had gone through those files and there wasn't a word out of place or anything potentially incriminating or scandalous in the whole damn box. Someone had hired this man to steal the things at all cost, and Harvey wanted to know who. Whoever they were, they had threatened his people, and they were going to pay.

Before the cops could ruin his only chance, he made himself ask, "Tell me, who hired you?"

The thief looked at Harvey, and his eyes looked weary. After a second, he said, "No clue." Harvey didn't know why, but he believed him. And he knew that no matter what questions the cops asked, they wouldn't get any real answers.

No, this guy was just a pawn. And while he couldn't have cared less about all this scheming, they (whoever they were) had made it personal.

But there was nothing more he could do at the moment. Mike was safe, they were fine, and this horrible, utterly exhausting day was near over. For now, he'd let things be.

Harvey answered the officers' questions until he'd proven he wasn't a hostile, and then accompanied them to collect his associate and party. Hopefully, they'd let everyone go home soon. And until they were actually home, Harvey wasn't going to let his trouble magnet associate out of his sight.

…

They were all in Harvey's office now, tiredly answering the police's seemingly endless questions.

Harvey was sitting on his couch, his hand wrapped tightly around Mike's arm, as if to ensure that the associate didn't go anywhere.

Mike kept trying to shrug off Harvey's grip, but he was so far unsuccessful. The cops continued to ask him questions about the occurrences of the day, and so far, Mike had been able to remember the answers.

Harvey relaxed a little—Mike remembering meant everything would be okay. They could go back to normal, back to work. No cops or crazy file thieves or gunmen.

The cops had seemed rather suspicious of their story, but Mike had begged Harvey not to tell them about his amnesia. Harvey wasn't sure that was a good idea, but at this point he felt that both he and Mike simply wanted this day to end. So he played along.

The officers finally left, after having questioned everyone relevant in the building, and now Jessica Pearson was standing over Harvey and Mike, glaring everyone else out of the room. Rachel left with a worried glance at the two men; Donna had her poker face on as she took her seat at her desk; and Kyle stalked sullenly from the room.

Mike's face went red as he stared at Jessica, and Harvey shook his head in exasperation. Would the day's problems never end?

"Harvey," Jessica said, eyes smiling with hidden scary emotions.

"I had everything under control," he began.

"Mmm. Mr. Ross," she said, turning her gaze to Mike, and amazingly enough Harvey detected concern on her face.

Mike lifted his eyes from their downcast gaze to rest on Jessica's face. He looked ashamed, of all things, Harvey noticed.

"Do you have anything to add?" she hinted to him. Harvey's grip on the kid's arm tightened slightly.

Mike shook his head, tensing his arm in Harvey's grasp. "Uh, no?"

Jessica gave them both a smile. "Well, I'm obligated to provide you with recovery time. However, I know in all likelihood that you won't take it. So instead, I'm restricting your case load. Harvey, hand over Mr. Walker's case to Louis."

Harvey was ecstatic. He'd been fearing she'd take some of his cases from him, but at this point, there was nothing he wanted more than to get rid of Adrian Walker. Were it up to Harvey, they'd let him go from the firm entirely. But then, that's why Jessica was in charge. "That's not really fair," Harvey protested half-heartedly.

Jessica gave him a knowing smile. "It's really not," she agreed, and Harvey knew they were both talking about Louis.

"That all, Jessica?" Harvey asked wearily. He really wanted to go home and have this day over with.

She nodded at him and then gave Mike another of those mysterious concerned looks. "And Harvey, take care of your associate." He nodded at her and then she was gone.

Donna came striding into the room. "Go."

Harvey looked at her in protest, mouth open to retort.

She beat him to it. "Get out of here." They both just looked at her, too tired to move. She rolled her eyes. "I _will_ call Louis in here."

They stood rapidly, Harvey hauling Mike up with him. He let go finally to collect his personal items and nodded a farewell to Donna.

"Bye, Donna," Mike muttered tiredly. Harvey finally noticed the kid had dark circles under his eyes and that he was still pale. It looked like the kid needed about a year of sleep.

"C'mon, rookie. Let's go before anything else happens to you," Harvey said, dragging him out the door. Donna gave them a little wave after flashing Harvey a threatening look. He recognized it as a promise that their little argument was not over, but she was putting it on hiatus.

He'd never been happier to walk away from his office and his beautiful assistant.


	28. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check for the note at the end if you liked this story! Enjoy the finale!

They walked towards the elevators when Mike pulled from Harvey's grasp. Harvey whirled, half worried that his associate was in some sort of trouble again.

But Mike was simply standing there looking shifty.

"What?" Harvey asked him.

"My stuff. I left it at my desk." Harvey just stared at him, too tired to make any frustrated quips. "I'll go get it," Mike said and started down the hallway towards the bullpen.

Harvey snagged the kid's arm once more and yanked back as hard as he could. Mike stumbled back a few steps before Harvey steadied him.

"What the hell, Harvey?"

"Don't even think about it," he growled back.

"But…my stuff…"

"Every time you go anywhere alone you get into trouble."

"But—"

"So we're going together. Lead on." Harvey pointed down the hallway and Mike blinked for a few seconds before eventually moving.

They were in the associates' area in a minute and all work stopped as the various workers took in the sight of Mike and Harvey.

Harvey noticed they all looked relieved for some strange reason.

Mike proceeded to walk over to his desk, while Harvey watched from the entryway. He figured that as long as he kept Mike within his sights the kid's bad luck wouldn't be able to intervene. He was wrong.

Kyle stepped up to Mike, a grand smirk on his face. "Finally," the douche said.

"Here we go," a voice said next to Harvey. He glanced over to see an amused Rachel standing beside him, watching the scene with glee.

"Do I want to know?" Harvey ventured.

"Trust me, this is gonna be good."

…

Kyle was incredibly tired. He'd been all over Pearson Hardman looking for stupid Mike Ross only to have to run all over the place once more in order to save his life.

So it was with elation that he finally saw his opportunity arise as Ross walked over to his desk. They were in the associate's den, with Harvey Specter _and_ Louis Litt watching. He'd never get a better opportunity to embarrass his nemesis.

Kyle smirked at Ross, arms crossed confidently over his chest. Ross looked at him, an unreadable mixture of emotions on his face.

"Um, hi Kyle."

Kyle gave a chuckle and held out Mike's phone.

The blond's eyes lit up as he looked at it. "My phone!" he said and tried to take it.

Kyle snapped the thing back out of Ross's reach, and the man looked at him with hurt.

"Kyle?" Ross said hesitantly.

"I think you have something you want to say to me, first," Kyle said, grinning evilly at Ross.

Ross frowned. "Well, you're right, actually. Thanks for telling Harvey where I was back there. You were a big help." The man didn't sound sincere exactly, but his words were at least devoid of sarcasm. But Kyle shook his head, reminding himself that he was here to force a confession from Mike Ross.

"Not that. C'mon, Ross. It's okay. Tell me how you really _feel_."

Mike shifted uncomfortably, and Kyle knew they were now on the same page.

"Here? In front of everyone?" Ross asked him, voice soft as his eyes darted nervously around the room.

Kyle nodded smugly.

Ross sighed. "Well, okay. I…"

Kyle smirked. This was it. This was Ross's downfall. He mentally prepared himself to remember this moment in all its glory so that he could savor it forever.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I just don't feel the same way about you."

Yes! He did it! He—wait, what?

Ross continued as Kyle stared dumbly at him. "It's not that you haven't been nice to me lately or anything. I appreciate it. And really, I'm flattered, but I already have a girlfriend and I don't swing that way."

Kyle felt he needed to stop Ross before it was too late. The kid was obviously just nervous, trying to see if Kyle really liked him back before admitting his undying love. "No, no, no. You're in love with _me_ ," Kyle stated.

"I'm really sorry, Kyle. I'm sure you'll find someone else," Ross said looking sympathetic. The idiot turned to leave, pulling his stupid messenger bag off his desk with him.

Kyle couldn't let things end like this. He'd be the laughing stock of all the associates! He grabbed Mike's arm and swung the man around to face him once more.

"Damn it! Tell the truth, Ross!" he shouted desperately.

Mike's face still held sympathy as he said, "How many times do I have to say it, Kyle? I just can't return your feelings. You'll get over me someday." He gave Kyle's shoulder a small pat and then gently pried his phone from Kyle's grasp.

Kyle just stood there in a daze as he watched Ross walk away with a smirking Harvey Specter. He turned to look at the whole room and saw every pair of eyes trained on him. He could hear their silent snickers—they were deafening. Louis was smirking at him and Rachel was giggling and looking sadly at him.

"C'mon, Kyle," she said, putting an arm across his back and leading him to the break room. "It'll be okay."

Kyle knew it wouldn't be okay. He was ruined! He leaned miserably into her touch and drifted dejectedly down the hall with her.

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been reading this! It's been a wild ride (for me anyways...)! I realize there are quite a few loose ends to this, which is why I am planning a sequel! I will be posting news about this on my fanfiction.net account profile page if you're interested, so check it out (my name there is still: stetsonblack). Thanks again for reading! I would love to hear from all of you! :)


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